2. First ride

My first ride was sure something. I was nervous as hell. Where should I do it? I'm north of Boston, but the thought of navigating the city scared the hell out of me. I'd be eaten alive. So I went to the north shore. It's a beautiful part of the state. Things happen there too.

     I emptied my car. I bought an air freshener. I vacuumed. I dressed up. Yes I dressed up to drive. I made sure my car was as presentable as possible. I turned the app on. 

      I waited in a parking lot in Salem, MA. It was an old stomping ground of mine for a few years and I knew the area. It wasn't long before I got a ride offer. I accepted it, my map came up and i took off. "Shit, what do I put on the radio?" I fumbled my music off at a red light and stuck on a top 40 hits station. That should do it. Everybody loves that stuff right? Please the masses. 

          It looked like it was telling me to go to the train station. Although naturally, my phone told me I was there, when in fact I was not. I pulled around to where I thought I should go. I was flying blind now. I'm freaking out as I'm not sure where to go exactly. The app is now telling me where I am in the world and has no direction for me. I'm a lost balloon trying to find it's child. "This fucking place!" I curse. I'm late now. They put up a new parking garage and the whole setup had changed since I had been there last.

          Finally I pulled into the pickup area. Thankfully, there was room for me to live park. I fumbled with my phone and hit "Arrive for Nadia." You had to first hit that you have arrived, they get notified, then they get in. I nervously waited. My hands sweating. Someone approached, she immediately reached for the back passenger door and got in. 

         "Hello! I said with a false friendly tone. "Hi" she said smiling back. I had a script in mind. "421 Palmer?" I asked. "Yes that's right." She answered. "Alright, how's your day going?" "It's good. Long train ride though, oi." Thank god, material to work with. "Ah nice, where are you from?" I asked. She had a heavy foreign accent. Baltic perhaps. I really meant where are you from. Clearly she wasn't American. That always intrigued me. "New York." she said. Damn. "What brings you to Salem?" I pried, trying to create more conversation. "Oh, I have a friend in here I'm visiting for a few days. It's been a while since we've seen each other. I don't know what her plans are but I'm sure we'll, you know, go out and have some fun!" She responded. She was an older woman, in her early 40's perhaps. "Nice! Well I hope you enjoy your time." I said as we took off out of the train depot.

           She pulled out her phone and began making a call. I guess that was the end of the interaction. I was feeling a bit less nervous now. I had broken the ice, my phone was navigating us, and I roughly knew the area. Things were good. It was about a 10 minute ride with lights and traffic. Not bad. I nudged the volume down a bit so she could talk. I drove. She began a conversation with someone and I didn't pay it any mind.

      Then, she began questioning whoever was on the receiving end. "What are you doing?...Yes but you didn't answer my question. What are you doing?" I tuned in. "You know what? Forget it. No, forget it. You told me you were going to spend time with your son and you're not doing that, so what are you doing? Are you with anyone? Who are you with?!" Things were escalating. 

      "Holy shit." I thought. Her accent came out more the louder she got. "Forget it! NO, just forget it! I'm done! I'm done playing these, these little games. I'm done playing with a little boy." She was irate now, yelling on the phone. "I'm done, forget it! NO, no no, I'm DONE WITH THIS! I've been putting up with your little games for too long!" 

         "What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck." I'm saying to myself. I'm wide eyed, trying now to get to our destination as soon as possible. "I'm done with you Phillip! I'm DONE! I'M DONE I'M DONE!!!" She screamed and slammed her phone down. Silence. 

           I arrived two minutes later to her destination. "Here's fine." She said. "Thank you!" She said in a polite tone as if nothing had happened. "Have a nice rest of your day!" I responded. She got out, closed the door, and walked away. I ended the ride on the app. $7.

     I was on my way. 

Roller Coasters

I've spent more time this year asking people if they ride roller coasters, than riding them.

     That is a sad, literal statement.

Lyft ride

- 2:32: Them: "We need to be in Marblehead for a reception by 3."

Me: I'll do my best!"  (Challenge accepted)

Thoughts: "fuck" 

- 2:58 : GPS takes us to the wrong place. Directions asked. Skidding tires, street missed, u-turn made, 2 stop signs and family navigated.

- 3:00: destination reached. 

1

"Are you sure?" Pauline asked. "Yea that's fine. It's not a big deal. It'll be more you have to explain considering they don't know me." I said.

       I work at a cemetery. It wasn't always like this. I enjoy it, but it's temporary. I'm finally taking Sophie out. We've been talking for a few weeks now and her parents asked what I do. If you tell your parents you are about to leave with a man 4 years your senior and tell them this mysterious man works at a cemetery, chances are they'll already have preconceived notions and won't like you no matter how nice you are. At the least it'll be an added 20 minutes of explanation.

        "Tell them what I do on the side, that's what I do with everyone else anyway." 

   On this side. I hate that term. I don't even do it anymore. So now it's an outright lie. For 4 years I professionally produced cinematic wedding films. Not Uncle Joey in the back with his camera. I mean, we made short films. Beautiful vignettes into the happiest day of a couple's time together thus far, (hopefully not the happiest) and made a lot of money doing it. I shot on weekends and sat editing during the week. I made good money. I mean, REALLY good money. I flew to Egypt on that money one year. 

           But it was a small operation. The guy who owned it and myself. There were more times than I can count where he did me favors such as forward me a few check for dates I would work so I could pay bills, so that was nice. But more than that, there were times I couldn't cash a check until Monday, or I had to wait for this or that. I was going above and beyond, running errands, fixing computers, doing research, staying late for things, being a friend, driving all over creation. I would suddenly be out of work for weeks on end, turning into months because money wasn't flowing. I would wait. This happened a few times.

The beginning of the end was the December two years back when he really screwed me over financially. Things were going well at the end of the season and we ha a lot of editing to do. So in November, he gave me a 3 dollar raise. from 12 to 15. WOW, that was huge. I worked a few weeks on that and it was grand. It was the same year I went to Egypt for 10 days in October and was still high from that. My sister needed a place to stay and so did I, so we moved out together. My confidence now was based on my new found wealth. Think again. In January, not 2 months later, he cut me off completely due to financial issues. 

           The guy I worked for was looking to finally move out into a house and my belief is that he was stifling all payment until the bank could approve him. This turned out to be right as he owed me a few thousand dollars I agreed to wait for because 1. I am weak, 2. I wanted him to get his stupid house. 3. He told me there'd be extra. 

      Now, he owed me for a few weddings, as well as a documentary/ advertising project. So I'm not entirely sure what the exact amount I was owed. But for all intents and purposes, there was no extra. I waited 3 months. I went broke. I slowly realized through February, March, and April, that he wasn't going to ask me back to edit. 

         Fuck him. I got a job at the cemetery. I was torn. This was the first time ever, EVER, since I had to look for work outside my field. I was disillusioned. For all I did for the man, which I'll never be able to encapsulate here, he slowly tore away at what I wanted to do with my life and helped me transition from aspiring filmmaker loving what I do, to loathing even sitting at a computer. I thought of him and his stupid fat face. Talking about everything but work, AT work. I learned to screw off. My work ethic and productivity was at an all time low. I got nothing done, which in truth is probably the reason he didn't ask me back on a day-to-day basis. But in doing so, instead of firing myself up and getting a better job in the field, or starting my own business, I gave up. I couldn't stand it. I didn't believe in myself. I still don't. 

        So film was out of the question, it's what I've wanted to do since I was 12. It's all I had. Now what? What the fuck do I do now? Work in IT again? Get a soul sucking job with not enough pay or hours? My bills are high enough. I was behind on everything. Rent, loans, cards, storage units (yes plural) stores, bills, you name it. I owed to my parents, friends and sister. I still do. I couldn't sit though. I could no longer concentrate at a desk. 

        So I saw a job posted on the city's website at the recommendation of my sister who was so graciously helping me look. Probably because it was also in her best interest so I could pay my half of the rent. The Cemetery. I was nervous and excited. It was an outdoor, hands on job. I'd never had one before. Would I be any good? It was kind of an unspoken expectation of myself. My father was outdoors in the harshest weather for 30 years. All I had was cushy office jobs. I'm an active guy but would I fit in to the blue collar world?

         It turns out I was. I love it. But it was seasonal. I didn't make enough a week. So what else? I needed a new car. I got one. I can barely afford it. Adverts for ride sharing constantly in my face. Lyft. Genius.

"I can do that. Can't I? I can do that. But I'm not a talkative guy. Well, you weren't, but you've gotten better at shooting the shit these last few years." Was the monologue in my head. Somehow, I did it. Probably out of outright fear of financial turmoil. I was already in it. So I worked the cemetery 7am to 3:30pm days. Drove home, showered, and drove assholes around until the wee hours of the morning. Or rather, until 10 or 11 until I wanted to die, pass out, or slowly roll home with my tail between my legs from fucking up so badly. This is my life now. Overdrafting to buy gas to make money that night so I can afford a loaf of bread in the morning, a haircut, or a 3 month overdue storage bill. Fuck things. Things suck. 

      My life is living in constantly rolling seas of late notices, lean notices, bills, warnings, last calls, and charges. These companies waste so much paper and postage on me I could kill half my debt with it if they never sent it. It's only a collage.

Cumbies series

I am going to create a series here called Cumbies and it will be a review of all the Cumberland Farms I visit in my travels. I've been to quite a few now and it is a sanctuary of sorts for me. They are all different in their own way. Let's get to it...

  Danvers rt 1 cumbies. 

 It's a nice new big one. Pretty relaxed, not crowded. One guy working. Lots of pumps. This one's got fancy screens! Not all the revamped cumbies have those.

PROS:

-clean bathroom, paper towels AND hand dyer, soap too. coffee brewed and full. The bold was there, and brewed right. Lots of pumps, easy access, fancy screens! All breakfast burritos and sandwiches present.

 CONS: not much of a baked goods selection (although it's late) and no bags to put them in, so I couldn't get donuts or a cinnamon roll. No booze (Massachusetts) 

Overall a 7 star rating.  

(CORRECTION) 6 stars. After getting gas, the paper for the receipt was out. FAKK. 

yelling

yelling at a screaming baby will not stop the baby from screaming. In fact, chances are, the baby will scream more. I am not a parent. I know this. It's human nature. Babies are innocent. Do not bring them down to your level. 

What happened?

I'm not sure. I got complacent? Lazy? Perhaps. But I refuse to accept I just have bad luck. I can't accept that. Because if that's the case then life has it in for me. My bank sent me some more ultimatum papers. It's the least of my problems. Every day is a blur. My issues have now amounted to such a barrel of laughs and a mountain of impossibility I don't know where to start, when it'll end, if it'll end, what will happen next, and if it's all too much. It's numbing to an insane extent. It's the literal expression of one step forward, two steps back. 

                 We're strictly talking financial too. Every other part of my life feels in turmoil. There is no relief. Every sense of it is stressed and stretched and suffocated. My emotional, mental, social, environmental wellness among every other piece I can't think of is strained. I try telling myself I'm over complicating things but I can't, because I'm not. I try telling myself I'm over exaggerating, but I'm not. I laugh, friends laugh when I don't talk to them for a few days, and I tell them what has happened during the week. it keeps getting worse. I can't dig myself out. I have realized i'm no longer trying to keep my head above water, I'm under it, trying to clamor back up to the surface for air. I am drowning, I am suffocating. I haven't been able to relax in months. 

         I would rather live in my car than in this current living environment. Seriously. It's so stressful. I can't take it. The tension wafts and hangs in the air here and it never leaves. My step father is poison. My stepbrother and his girlfriend are worse. If you can imagine that, please do. They deserve the worst that can happen to a human being. My mother takes it all and acts as if nothing is happening most days and increasingly deteriorates her own mental state because she knows she puts up with it all. She feels she has to. Life is too short. 

         Meanwhile, I fear now my storage unit has been sold and do not have the emotional strength to bring myself to check. They have not sent me the deadline for selling as they did last time this happened, so that is all I hope for. I fear my car will be repossessed any day now. I fear my bank will garnish my wages because I owe them money too. I have overdrafted my second, backup checking account too. My credit card, Paypal credit, school loan accounts are all behind. Ruining my credit I built up over the previous 3 years. I wreck my car by driving for Lyft to make up for overdraft fees and keep a few dollars in my account for gas and food. I'm not talking restaurants , i'm talking pb&js 4-5 times a week 2.5 meals a day if I'm lucky. To boot, my phone is not up to snuff and I've gotten a few bad reviews and horrible experiences driving people with Lyft that I might lose that too. Human and technology error. 

          I haven't been able to afford a haircut for over a month, I need my wisdom teeth out desperately now, I need them cleaned, I need X-Rays, I need my gums checked. I need a physical. I have not seen a dentist in over 6 years and a physician in over 7. Aside from working outside and in general, feeling healthy, or rather fit, maybe not so healthy, I think I will look back on this time if I have the opportunity, and realize this is why I have health issues later in life. I don't know what's wrong with me, I'm sure a few things are at this point. I can't afford an oil change, or tires, or an alignment, and I need one on my car too. 

            Soon, I'm almost positive I won't be able to take regular showers soon. Car living. Fuck it. Maybe this is what I wanted. No, I don't. Maybe I'm not trying hard enough? But from what I understand I'm trying as hard as I possibly can under the circumstances. There is no stability in my life. I hate asking for help. I'm no good at it. All I do is suck and suck and suck. I suck resources, I drain people emotionally, and most other ways. I wish to give back but I can't possibly fathom it right now. I'm years behind on things I've wanted to do. I'm treading in circles under water. Slowly sinking. Convincing myself some one or thing or miracle will hook me under my arms and pull me out and dry me off, sit me on the beach and say, "here, try again you idiot." Or maybe I'm under the illusion I'll somehow find the strength to swim up for a breath. But that's ridiculous. 

                I've sold a lot of things of mine. Some bittersweet, but I've become so numb that I don't have time to remember the things. With how my life has gone these past 5 years, physical possessions only represent horrible negative things for me. They used to represent accomplishment and progression. A couch, a table, silverware, a painting, a desk. Rugs, lamps, computers, amps, guitars, TVs, mugs, towels, shower curtains, stocked cabinets. A candle. No longer. I hate it all right now. I think it's still in me somewhere, buried. But...

      INTERLUDE:    (The baby is crying, and the mother storms upstairs, agravatted, and my stepbrother yells at him to stop. This baby is almost 1 year old. He cannot speak or convey his thoughts, and his fucking maggot set of parents yell at him for crying. He needs love. No, he has that, not from them though. He needs to be separated from them. He will grow up around years and years of negativity and turmoil and he will continue the cycle of his father and his before him. Creating poison for unsuspecting victims who are caught in the web of their charm. They're tied in under superficial smiles and humor, and then subject to decades of sadistic torture and abuse. Worst of all, all the while convinced they cannot escape. How sad. Why am I here? I don't belong here. I can't stand it.)

                    But right now my life is so fucked up right now I can't fathom owning another storage unit and I'd rather sell all my possessions than pay another fucking bill for a garage sized box to put shit I have no room for that represents a time in my life that used to be better. That's all it is. Fucking pain. I can't even sleep when it's quiet. My brain turns on in the morning, in the middle of the night, and for hours before I fall asleep thinking of how I have to wake up again and swim like hell to try to see the light up there. Hanging on to hope that it'll all be okay soon. It's very unlikely but it's all I have. Even then, the things I hang hope on are washed away with reality. So sometimes I have to remove myself from it and keep thinking them anyway. How I want things to be. How I want to spend the rest of my life. How I want to and that's the way it's going to be, or even simply thinking that it's possible, and I just have to wait for it. 

              Meanwhile, I cannot bring myself to go downstairs to make a few sandwiches and I despise the thought of sitting in the same room as these monsters. They are fake fucking pieces of trash that deserve nothing but driven to the landfill and burned. I'd rather go hungry in my car, than spend 5 minutes in a kitchen with two people. Isn't that something? People wonder why I'm bitter or short sometimes. I'm aware of it, but when someone's entire life is engulfed in shit, and they have no safe space or relief at all from it, then yes, that happens. It's not you, it's them. They'll get over it, apologize, and want to forget it and they'll forever be sorry for it, as I am to so many people, which additionally piles on to my stress. But know, that all they want from you most times is to forget their problems, and spend some time with you.

            So give it to them.

New things, oral pain and otherness

     Turning this shit storm around into an extreme diarrhea evacuation of art and pretentious expression. BAM here we go.

      1. New record(s) coming out. Yes plural. When? soon. Downloadable. More news soon on that. But close. 

      2. Podcast idea is now coming into itself. There will be official details on that soon. 

      3. As these things go. It seems I'm having severe pain in the mouth. Very real stuff. When I was 18 I got a consultation to get my wisdom teeth out. My mom looked at me standing at the window to schedule the surgery and asked, "Does it hurt right now?" I said no. That was 7 years ago. Almost every day for the last 4 or 5 I have despised that decision. Every morning I bleed in the sink. I can't remember when I didn't. No matter how hard or not I brush, no matter how much I floss or eat less crap. I wake up and bleed. It's horrendous. But part of my life now. 

     For about 3-4 days every month for the last 7 years, I live in severe discomfort as my wisdom teeth begin to shift, push, tilt, push, cut, bleed, hurt, damage, you name it. They're in and are nearly 90 degrees one way or the other, but they are anything but straight. I have learned to deal with it and simply don't do much those days in terms of talking or singing. I slur usually. I wake up with the sides of my cheeks cut up and I end up biting my lips, cheeks and other insides of my mouth. The pain usually subsides and I go on with my life. But this time it's severe and causing headaches. 

        To boot, I think i've got a cyst or some sort of saliva calcified under my tongue (whatever the case I looked up possible causes) I have what feels like a deep cut at the bottom of the underside of my tongue. After 2 days I realize it's not a cut. Holy shit does all this together hurt. It terrifies me that it's all connected. Wisdom teeth can impact, roots set in and serious more threatening surgery is needed in those cases. This cyst thing along with the headache and pressure-wisdom tooth pain together makes it almost impossible to eat. When I do i'm writhing in pain. whenever any substance hits the underside of my mouth i tear up.  It's fucking painful. 

         All this bitching aside, I'm a grown man without insurance of any kind so that's nice. My point is, this makes it difficult to sing so recording is either going to be postponed, or recorded post haste. Perhaps I'm dying of a tumor in my head somewhere and my body is telling me to get this thing out before I die in my sleep. 

      Forgot where the rest of this was going. I'm going on 5 hours of sleep right now. I'm off to the great slumbering skies of the pre-death state known as sleep. Off to the races. Until tomorrow friends. Race trains, don't take any shit, but don't give any to anyone either. 

Prostitute

Had my first quasi run-in with a prostitute today. Dropping off my first Lyft ride of the night and my passenger said something as she got out about how the prostitute across the street slowed down and thought I was stopping for her.

    I look up, and this lady of the night is staring right at me. Cigarette in one hand, wearing this blue thing I felt hadn't seen a washing machine in a while. I pull out into the street, and she's waltzing my way. I drove by and smiled, an amused smile. The sun was still out. Cop rolled past seconds later.

I hope she ducked them.

Nyquil

I live the feeling of downing Nyquil. Yes the feeling of it, but even more, the feeling of sending it down your throat. After which you know you don't have much time left. So you go about the rest of your limited time knowing, soon, you will be sleeping and everything now, is on the clock. Limited.

Purpose

Some folks' purpose in life is merely to survive.

Life

My own life deserves no focus, just affection.