I'm gonna fuck the tangles out of your hair!
It seems like Zach Braff is choosing the background music for every show these days, or maybe i just hate music, but that's for another discussion.
Hello and welcome to Norstein Bekkler's lab. The spine tingling show is about to start! The main concern i have lately is my posture as i sleep and potentially how it may correlate to my success in life. Every morning i wake up several hours before work and have this overwhelming feeling of guilt, anxiety and apprehension. I stress myself out about bills, income, payments, and my future plans and how i can bring them to reality. i get dressed and sometimes grab a small amount of substance for my belly. Ive been out of groceries for awhile. It's agony for me, Faryn doesn't eat because she's a girl and they are like angels that don't consume food, or poo. Also she's kind of like The Undead in that she doesn't really sleep or lose energy and she's relentless to put her mouth on me. My paychecks go towards trying to keep sugar and grease in my veins, and a lot of alcohol.mostly the trashiest 40's to get me fucked up in a hurry while abusing my mouth and sense of taste. I'm getting worse at drinking, my body can detect shots of hard alcohol and will try to reject it immediately.
I call Trimet for their transit tracker arrival times. I call them probably 4 times a day, it helps inform me of the degree of haste my day will have. 10 minutes to find my clothes and two socks, and get dressed, 4 to brush teeth, pee and other bathroom activities, 10 to mentally say goodbye to Faryn for the day and deliver a million smooches as she keeps the bed warm in my stead. 8 minutes to walk uphill to the bus-stop. i try to arrive 15 minutes before the bus arrives, the ride is another 16-22 minutes depending on number of stops. then a 6-8 minute walk from burnside to Lovejoy in downtown Portland. 13th ave has no sidewalks, everyone walks down the middle of the road and cars slug along at a snail's pace.
I try to skirt the walls of buildings and stay out of traffic, which has people look at me weird. "this is the pearl," their stares say to me, "we are above rules and traffic laws, come into the middle of the road, we're important." The pearl district is expensive and has quaint coffee places, restaurants with roped off entrances, bellhops and galleries. the roads are nice, the buildings are ancient yet have a facelift of modernity making them both kinds of expensive. the cost of rent per month for the place i work is over $26,000. i applied for loan deferment because i cant afford all of my bills. three cops on horses are blocking a road on Glisan and 13th. their is a quarter mile trail of horse shit leading up to them. large piles smeared by cars down the road. fucking portland pigs. they kill civilians about once a month nowadays accidental shootings and gratuitous use of police force. they get paid suspension for murder. lately, it sounds like a pretty good gig to me. i want to kill these elitist motherfuckers in the pearl. i walk through shit and get shit on from everyone who comes in the store. i'm a know nothing servant who smiles and calls everyone sir and maam. these are vastly privileged people who are not in any way more intelligent or harder working than anyone else.
a coworker named Will found a Key Bank receipt from a transaction that a customer dropped. the customer had withdrawn eighty-four thousand dollars, and had a mere 144,000 left in his account. what a fix. Will and I decided we were in the wrong line of work.
It burns in me more very day. The need to get a new job. I am a slave to routine. I hate my professional life. It pains me that i'm not in front of a sketchbook and canvas everyday. More days go by lately where i do not draw than when i do. One of my dear close friends in college killed himself on the 31st of march. we were in all the same painting classes, all the same printmaking classes, it really seemed surreal and hasn't fully sunk in. i feel myself hating myself. i am becoming arrogant and conceited. i have so much potential, i can be so much more. i can be so much better. i can't just fade away into the mundane and let myself die both literally or metaphorically.
It usually takes me over an hour to get home after work, the buses run like shit at night, once every 45 minutes, so if you miss one, or more likely if one doesnt come, you're fucked for another hour of standing and waiting. The best part of my day is stepping through the front door of our shitty overpriced apartment in the middle of nowhere and seeing her face light up. She's basically causing me mental torture because i need to prove to not only myself, but also to her that i am so much more capable with my life. i want to prove i can support myself. We are moving soon at the end of May.
My body feels weak. i am malnurished. i feel soggy and slow. i dont have the explosive energy or endless endurance that i seem to remember having in my past, but for some reason i can't really pinpoint when that was. there's something always wrong with me. i go from one pain, to a head cold, to sinus inflammations, to inner ear infections, to a chipped tooth, to large aching bruises, to an ingrown toenail making me wobble as i walk. its one long reason to whine after another. i want to be healthy already, why am i falling apart? i feel like my eyes have sunk deep within my skull and the gravity of the world is resting on my eyelids. My heart beats out of spite for the bad cards in my hand, yet revels with triumph at the glory of what i do have on my side. i have an evil grin of hope in those cards. I need to fix my world. I'm grinding through days waiting for an opening, a catalyst to ignite a chain of events to sculpt my path.
Faryn is beyond perfect. She, in many ways, is the female version of myself. Too smart to let stupidity slide, too strong to let weakness grow, too beautiful to let ugliness manifest itself into my life. she is a great ally and shares a common idea of creative purpose. We need a place to call our own where we can explode with intensity. we need to find a place to grow instead of be beaten down by our grim situation.
there is great focus and direction in the singular desire for art inside me.
also my dog is adorable as balls.
yeah, you wish you could play with that dog.
-joe
Hello and welcome to Norstein Bekkler's lab. The spine tingling show is about to start! The main concern i have lately is my posture as i sleep and potentially how it may correlate to my success in life. Every morning i wake up several hours before work and have this overwhelming feeling of guilt, anxiety and apprehension. I stress myself out about bills, income, payments, and my future plans and how i can bring them to reality. i get dressed and sometimes grab a small amount of substance for my belly. Ive been out of groceries for awhile. It's agony for me, Faryn doesn't eat because she's a girl and they are like angels that don't consume food, or poo. Also she's kind of like The Undead in that she doesn't really sleep or lose energy and she's relentless to put her mouth on me. My paychecks go towards trying to keep sugar and grease in my veins, and a lot of alcohol.mostly the trashiest 40's to get me fucked up in a hurry while abusing my mouth and sense of taste. I'm getting worse at drinking, my body can detect shots of hard alcohol and will try to reject it immediately.
I call Trimet for their transit tracker arrival times. I call them probably 4 times a day, it helps inform me of the degree of haste my day will have. 10 minutes to find my clothes and two socks, and get dressed, 4 to brush teeth, pee and other bathroom activities, 10 to mentally say goodbye to Faryn for the day and deliver a million smooches as she keeps the bed warm in my stead. 8 minutes to walk uphill to the bus-stop. i try to arrive 15 minutes before the bus arrives, the ride is another 16-22 minutes depending on number of stops. then a 6-8 minute walk from burnside to Lovejoy in downtown Portland. 13th ave has no sidewalks, everyone walks down the middle of the road and cars slug along at a snail's pace.
I try to skirt the walls of buildings and stay out of traffic, which has people look at me weird. "this is the pearl," their stares say to me, "we are above rules and traffic laws, come into the middle of the road, we're important." The pearl district is expensive and has quaint coffee places, restaurants with roped off entrances, bellhops and galleries. the roads are nice, the buildings are ancient yet have a facelift of modernity making them both kinds of expensive. the cost of rent per month for the place i work is over $26,000. i applied for loan deferment because i cant afford all of my bills. three cops on horses are blocking a road on Glisan and 13th. their is a quarter mile trail of horse shit leading up to them. large piles smeared by cars down the road. fucking portland pigs. they kill civilians about once a month nowadays accidental shootings and gratuitous use of police force. they get paid suspension for murder. lately, it sounds like a pretty good gig to me. i want to kill these elitist motherfuckers in the pearl. i walk through shit and get shit on from everyone who comes in the store. i'm a know nothing servant who smiles and calls everyone sir and maam. these are vastly privileged people who are not in any way more intelligent or harder working than anyone else.
a coworker named Will found a Key Bank receipt from a transaction that a customer dropped. the customer had withdrawn eighty-four thousand dollars, and had a mere 144,000 left in his account. what a fix. Will and I decided we were in the wrong line of work.
It burns in me more very day. The need to get a new job. I am a slave to routine. I hate my professional life. It pains me that i'm not in front of a sketchbook and canvas everyday. More days go by lately where i do not draw than when i do. One of my dear close friends in college killed himself on the 31st of march. we were in all the same painting classes, all the same printmaking classes, it really seemed surreal and hasn't fully sunk in. i feel myself hating myself. i am becoming arrogant and conceited. i have so much potential, i can be so much more. i can be so much better. i can't just fade away into the mundane and let myself die both literally or metaphorically.
It usually takes me over an hour to get home after work, the buses run like shit at night, once every 45 minutes, so if you miss one, or more likely if one doesnt come, you're fucked for another hour of standing and waiting. The best part of my day is stepping through the front door of our shitty overpriced apartment in the middle of nowhere and seeing her face light up. She's basically causing me mental torture because i need to prove to not only myself, but also to her that i am so much more capable with my life. i want to prove i can support myself. We are moving soon at the end of May.
My body feels weak. i am malnurished. i feel soggy and slow. i dont have the explosive energy or endless endurance that i seem to remember having in my past, but for some reason i can't really pinpoint when that was. there's something always wrong with me. i go from one pain, to a head cold, to sinus inflammations, to inner ear infections, to a chipped tooth, to large aching bruises, to an ingrown toenail making me wobble as i walk. its one long reason to whine after another. i want to be healthy already, why am i falling apart? i feel like my eyes have sunk deep within my skull and the gravity of the world is resting on my eyelids. My heart beats out of spite for the bad cards in my hand, yet revels with triumph at the glory of what i do have on my side. i have an evil grin of hope in those cards. I need to fix my world. I'm grinding through days waiting for an opening, a catalyst to ignite a chain of events to sculpt my path.
Faryn is beyond perfect. She, in many ways, is the female version of myself. Too smart to let stupidity slide, too strong to let weakness grow, too beautiful to let ugliness manifest itself into my life. she is a great ally and shares a common idea of creative purpose. We need a place to call our own where we can explode with intensity. we need to find a place to grow instead of be beaten down by our grim situation.
there is great focus and direction in the singular desire for art inside me.
also my dog is adorable as balls.
Click to viewyeah, you wish you could play with that dog.
-joe