Big clear bin

I live a very sad existence. I didn't create much today. I wanted to and planned to. Instead here I lay in my boxers, eating cookies out of their big clear bin, drinking rum, reading Molina. 

I watched a few episodes of new bloodline instead. Now I shall piss the rest away reading further and not drinking because I must wake in the morn. 

  overtime. 

 

i keep saying it and I'll say it again...

There's a shindig going on at the cabana Sunday night with our informal manager. 

Wow. That sentence was something.

Anyway, if I have the money i'm buying party hats. Happening. 

I will see if I can keep to downing a mere half of this 151 Cruzan aged to whatever the hell it might be for the party. My gift. Who knows though, the weekend is young. I have yet to take a drop of this fresh bottle. We call beer king louie's and number as the night moves. "King Louis the 8th etc (or VI, XIII whatever) So going with that and the dead soldier theme given to empties, i call empty handles and liquor bottles dead kings. Dead Soliders and kings. story of my life. 

       I'll buy party hats and perhaps beer if i have the money. I got paid and bought tickets to a show, a once in a lifetime opportunity show. Songs: Molina and promptly paid towards some bills. "Towards" being the key word in that sentence. I am behind and could not even pay one bill fully. But toward them. I said it about March, and April, and i'll say it for May and June until I die. "This month i will catch up." I said it all last year and the year before that. I pick a month things might look good and I will get my shit together to save, not owe, not be behind. Doesn't happen. Something always happens though.

       I will catch up, but my car will die. I will almost catch up, and need something. I will catch up, and find one of my bank accounts is in the red...over $1000. Yes. Overdraft fees re the bane of my existence. Fuck my credit, it's fucked to high heaven. I was credited with helping a man who "employed" me fix his credit by explaining it was super simple to fix it, who then fucked me 3 different times and is one of the main players in my financial turmoil. He fucked me. The man stopped paying me to buy a house. Dropped me like a bad habit. 

       I haven't even started drinking yet. 

Friendly

I'll write a book entitled "I'm not naturally sociable and how this will kill me." Or "I am not friendly and how this will kill me." About how I'm not good at maintaining acquaintances and if I get out of this god forsaken place I'll die in the cold ditch of an old desert road of some forgotten town in a flyover state in my ancient RV that finally quit and nobody for miles. And if I had a phone, somebody to call. 

    This could be fixed by making friends along the way, benefiting and reaping the reward of working a bit to create a long lasting friendship network across the country. I'd enjoy that.

    So I'm quite sure I'll die in that ditch, phone in hand, wondering who to call.

        

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Verbal Vomit

That's where I will be more frequently. "stream of consciousness" is how I put it. When interesting thoughts pop into my head, funny things, videos, music I make or dig, "exceptionally influenced" postings too. But for now, here's this. 

This poor baby

   This poor baby. His mother is dead inside. She is dead. I hope she dies. She deserves it. Few people do. I mean, in my eyes. I don't use that sacred wish lightly. I reserve it for the special ones. His father is a sad human being. Not equally as fucked morally, but more fucked in other ways. He overdosed minutes after returning from an AA meeting on the other side of my bedroom wall. In the room where his baby lay sleeping. His bastard of a girlfriend providing him the drugs. He has no sympathy or compassion or care for anything other than himself. Actually, I've convinced myself, he's as bad as she. 

       They have an artificial air about them. The way they conduct themselves around their baby. They fake it all. They fake their love, they fake their amusement, they fake their own happiness to the point they might believe it themselves. They fake their smiles and laughter and interest in their own child. I know this because I know what happens when they believe no one is around and when they are under the influence and the true monsters inside of them come out uncloaked. They are despicable. They generally disgust me. That poor baby. 

       He's pretty cool. But I distance myself. They always want to hand him off so not to have to deal with him. They had him to be pity'd by everyone, my mother and stepfather the biggest suckers. 

Rum Rum

It should only be Rum. Not twice, once. 3 is pretty good. But we're not anywhere close. It's gone that is.

There was barely enough left to get me going, but it did. Not enough. But enough I guess.

           Another King hits the bin.

151, eat your heart out. 

Arms

I have a dress shirt I got for $7 at a thrift store. It's bronze colored. It's tight fitting and It's the first honest shirt that fits me that I love. It was a bit tight though and I could never button the cuffs, which I was ok with since I roll up sleeves regardless. I do however leave the button up the sleeve buttoned as it helps with the rolled-up look. 

       The other day I wore it for the first time in a few months. My arms no longer fit in it as they are bigger than the shirt allows.

       What a feeling.

Due

Something is/was due today. Bills. So many, so late. I'll always be late. My life is a last notice. So much paper and postage wasted on me. Companies mailing out late notices, final notices. I can't bear to open them. I can't bear to open most things these days. I can't bear most things these days.

           Most days I can't bear myself. 

riding with the ghost

The Molina book finally came in. I'm going to fucking find out what comes after the blues now, for sure. At least the dark don't hide it. See you on the other side.