journal mode
Time to start using this thing as a journal instead of feeling pressure to write interesting things. Most of what I want to write is uninteresting to the extreme.
I think I want to actually keep a journal of days here as an aid to my memory. Just random things, what I ate every day, how much I spent, what I did while I wasn't masturbating, what the weather was like and how much I didn't like it, etc.
Today I fried some raw sausage patties and 3 eggs and also had leftover biscuits from biscuits and gravy the other night. It was a solid breakfast. Last night at the blue-collarest bar there ever was, I saw Low Down and Dirty cover every song I have ever heard on 95X. My clothes still smell like stale drinkie-poos. Speaking of which: shot of Jack Daniels, Corona with lime (lame), shot of warm apple pie (Baileys with what tasted like butter and cinnimon toast in it set on fire), 1/4 of a can of Budwieser. The Bud was had in the spirit of the Phoenix bar scene.
Then I fell asleep in Pennellville, only to be woken by Gina asking me if I was going to stay the night 8 times in a row. Then in a major melatonin haze I drove home and slept 6 hours until my nose woke me up.
Today, breakfast, then a big hot bath with Old Spice bodywash providing the bubbles. I cut the inside of my nose shaving, but I smell really, really good. Tonight it's planned to go to Funk 'n Waffles to see a super8 film exhibition put on by local artists.
Also, there's a Saab on Craigslist somewhere in B'ville owned by one Marianne which might be in the cards. I don't reckon I can ever own a car what aint a old Saab, on account of them comfortable seats. A 7-hour drive to Purchase even in a relatively comfortable Cirus made my kidneys ache within an hour. Anyways, first I'll have to learn to drive standard if I even want to consider Marianne's car, and anyway I have to go look at it and see what kind of work it needs. Plus, do I even have enough money to think about it, while still being able to afford future married life? I'm really very broke when I think about living in Westchester. I need to win a million lottos.
I can't forget to eat lunch or breakfast will be for naught. I miss Michelle and Bryan a lot since the visit. I don't ever want to lose touch or fall out with them ever. I want them to be pillars in my life and to keep Michelle where she always was, as a very understanding and deeply comforting friend. I also want to play Eat Poop You Cat and Bryan's Mind-reading Extravaganza with them every night.
Suddenly my room and the window are very soft and comforting. I should end this now and continue tomorrow, starting afresh with updates of inane experiences.
PS: Yesterday I spent 15 bucks at the bar. IT WAS SUCH A BAR. Just a freaking shack with a bunch of white trash people in it drinking Bud Light, screaming obscenities. There was also a short socially retarded 40-something man with no neck, a military haircut, and a large caterpiller mustache playing pool by himself, who eventually challenged every drunk person around to a game. He played a sloshed buck-tooth dude with a toothbrush in his back pocket, a group of 17-year-olds, and Andy, who dated Katherine.. all the while remaining totally silent. He'd lose for a while, and at the very end, right as the other guy was about to win, he'd make a huge comeback and sink the 8 ball, returning to his can of Bud without a word. I clapped for him before I realized his ruse.
The weather today is shitty.