(no subject)
Shit, abject poverty has turned me into a horribly miserly, miserable being over the course of the last 10 months. I start my job in 2 days. After that, I intend to get my balls back. Go out and have a drink or 1,000, fuck something, write something, read something, rediscover what it's like to have free time and a little cash to burn, take walks and return to my old bitter, sarcastic, misanthropic self. All these fucking shy, deluded, hipster girls I've been dating have made me soft. They throw a fit. I cave in. They lose their shit and go to rehab or dump me or I stop returning their calls. Then a week later I'm pandering to their imbecilic, insane, hypochondriac tendencies.
What the fuck happened to you Matt? You used to be full of whiskey and lust and not just sit around sipping screwdrivers and masturbating in your room. You used to write and read incessantly and now all you do is sit around, read and doctor various past writs. You used to have some semblance of adventure, even with no money you'd walk up to the park or sit in the back of a bar and sketch something; now all you do is chain smoke and write songs which you aren't even sure you like. You used to be very forward with women, sometimes inappropriately so, now you just daydream about taking the insane exes out to fancy dinners and making amends. What happened to your intensity? That searing sword of a tongue? You used to rarely speak but when you did, you were pointed and objective. Now you blather in inane circles. Why do you hang grimly onto friendships that you wouldn't have cared for a year ago? You didn't used to care if you ended up friendless or homeless. You didn't sit on bar-stools and hope that the person next to you would begin a conversation. You used to prefer quaint redneck bars where no one was likely to bother you. Now you go to hipster bars and hope to take some hipster girl home. It's really pathetic. You used to get drunk at and before and after work, go home and sit in front of a typewriter if there wasn't some bar or hot tub or party or sexual interest to keep you. Haven't you learned being honest, altruistic, and pleasant doesn't seem to get you anywhere with women? Until it does...do you expect to mope around? What the fuck happened to you Matt? Grow some balls.
What the fuck happened to you Matt? You used to be full of whiskey and lust and not just sit around sipping screwdrivers and masturbating in your room. You used to write and read incessantly and now all you do is sit around, read and doctor various past writs. You used to have some semblance of adventure, even with no money you'd walk up to the park or sit in the back of a bar and sketch something; now all you do is chain smoke and write songs which you aren't even sure you like. You used to be very forward with women, sometimes inappropriately so, now you just daydream about taking the insane exes out to fancy dinners and making amends. What happened to your intensity? That searing sword of a tongue? You used to rarely speak but when you did, you were pointed and objective. Now you blather in inane circles. Why do you hang grimly onto friendships that you wouldn't have cared for a year ago? You didn't used to care if you ended up friendless or homeless. You didn't sit on bar-stools and hope that the person next to you would begin a conversation. You used to prefer quaint redneck bars where no one was likely to bother you. Now you go to hipster bars and hope to take some hipster girl home. It's really pathetic. You used to get drunk at and before and after work, go home and sit in front of a typewriter if there wasn't some bar or hot tub or party or sexual interest to keep you. Haven't you learned being honest, altruistic, and pleasant doesn't seem to get you anywhere with women? Until it does...do you expect to mope around? What the fuck happened to you Matt? Grow some balls.