Looking back, I am certain.

Yes, it was a spring day, my junior year of high school.

My physics teacher explained the Second Law of Thermodynamics. And entropy.

That notion of order into chaos. No matter how “organized” we are.

And I never cleaned my room again.

Because, why? Work smarter, not harder, right?

Chaos is the ultimate state. And life is too short to keep doing things that don’t bring you energy, inspiration, or orgasm.

Always remember that. Fuck without a rubber.

Death always seems to come for you whether you are machine or organic, entropy seem to always win.

Maybe that's the lesson we all need to learn before it’s too late. Time is precious to us and we need to live and love while we can still do so.

What i'm listening to:

Return of the Mack
Mark Morrison
Return of the Mack

Oh, you have a piano?

In your bedroom?

Have I mentioned I’m accepting applications?

I think you’ll fit the position—perfectly.

What i'm listening to:

You
Regard/Troye Sivan/Tate McRae
You

I have simplified my requirements. For women, that is.

Just one requirement, really:

1. She doesn’t have to be an Instagram model/influencer. Just look like she could be.

Yes, I’m shallow—we’ve already established that.

Note, I didn’t say she has to BE an Instagram model, not that I’d refuse. She just has to possess that capability. Honestly, as little as I social media, if she lives in the real world instead, that’s a definite plus as well.

Sometimes we just need a li’l nudge. To remember. If the pretty girls are like unicorns on your daily adventure, perhaps it’s time to go where unicorns are spotted.

Like the gym. Or the coffee shop. Or Los Angeles.

Or the lake. Where everyday is lake day.

Perhaps I’m not where I need to be to realize what I want. What I need. Perhaps, there’s a reason why the perfect girl only lives in fantasies and fairy tales.

Because I don’t live where the unicorns live.

I live where so many have given up. On dreams. On life. On looks. On health.

Adventure calls. There must be more out there… even if Instagram girls prove to be more fantasy than reality, I see glimpses in the wild that provide evidence the girls I seek exist.

Surround myself with enough of them, and maybe I won’t get so attached to that. one. girl.

When abundance is only available in theory, it’s time to find a way to put it in practice.

I owe it to every beauty I meet.

I owe it to myself.

What i'm listening to:

We’re Good
Dua Lipa
We’re Good

In Biology, we learned that women, when grouped together, found their cycles synchronizing. As someone who works with several young ladies, I can attest that this is quite true.

Legend has it, that in a room full of clocks, they will all synchronize with the one with the largest pendulum. Odd, but I’ve seen evidence of this as well. In my tiny house, all of the clocks, while they have no pendulum, have managed to sync with one another.

Then there’s my Casio wristwatch.

I cannot explain how or why this has happened, but the analog clocks have all synchronized with my wristwatch, which is also synchronized with all of my smart devices.

It is not designed, nor does it have any way to ping “real time” from the internet and stay in sync.

Yet, it does.

I am so baffled... and impressed!

There is so much I do right.

Proof that I am (or at least can be) cool. That I’ve come so far since high school.

That I’m not a jackass.

Then, of course, you walk in.

You. are. so. incredibly. beautiful.

Seriously, I have never seen anyone like you. The inexperienced li’l boy leaps out of my body and runs over to you.

You handle him so gracefully. You patronize him.

Yet, deep inside, you’re ready for him to leave. Perhaps you even wonder what happened? Where he came from?

After all, you used to think I was cool. That I wasn’t a jackass. In fact, your eyes used to light up when I walked in the room…

I may still miss those conversations. And the texts. And the selfies.

Yes, you were my girl. For a moment, anyway.

In hindsight, I know what I’m doing wrong. Even after today.

My God, even at the gym, you look incredible. And you came over, we hugged, and there was a glimmer of that light I remembered.

I didn’t stop. I didn’t let it go. I didn’t walk away. I pushed. I talked about myself.

I need to wear a bell. For more reason than one.

With you, I consistently and repeatedly blow it.

You can’t be the only one. Yes, you are special. Maybe even unique.

Yet, I am surrounded by beauty. Even now, in the coffee shop, there are three beauties to talk to. Instead of writing about you. Do I even understand abundance yet?

Hmmm… do I?

In fact, three more have just walked in. The universe. is. responding.

Wow. Relax. Breathe. Say, “hello.” And walk away.

I am curious. Are you wearing red lipstick to match that lovely red dress and those red Chucks? Either way, I love it.

I am thrilled to witness such beauty. Do I need anything else?

The more I learn, the less I know…

My school didn’t teach aptitude.

Fine. I’ll buy the Ðip.

Eric Draven was wrong.

It CAN rain all the time.

It is so dark outside, day and night. I need my happy lights just to be able to function. Yet I need to get some things done. Preferably when it’s light. And preferably staying dry.

But no. I wash the car in the rain. I mow the lawn in the rain (the city is quite diligent in passing out their li’l flags this wet, rainy season). I guess this week will be a good test of what I can accomplish in the rain.

(I haven’t been in the basement, but I need to get things done down there too.)

It’s starting to feel like that I’m on Venus in that short film based on the Bradbury novella... All Summer in a Day. I just hope I’m not stuck in a closet when the sun finally comes out—and that it’s out for more than an hour.

At least the rain gave me an opportunity to get to know Lisa today...

What i'm listening to:

Only When It Rains
Frank Walker x Astrid S
Only When It Rains

How many push-ups can I finish?

Depends on how many the Ice Cream Man has... maybe seven?

I am torn.

Between wanting to write. And wanting to go back to sleep.

Between wanting to breathe. And wanting to die.

Between adulting. And just turning off my phone. For a week.

Yet, life intervenes.

There’s this one girl. She’s fucking incredible. And I’m beginning to accept that I’ll likely never see her again.

Beauty is common. I’ll meet others. Some will also be fucking incredible. I have no reason to mourn this loss, yet I do. Perhaps, because in this area of the world, beauty is less common. In fact, it is rare.

No one cares here. So, morbid obesity is the norm. Add to that my face for radio, and you see why I might get attached to this one girl.

If you can make her hate you, you can make her love you.

And my petite li’l Puerto Rican girl lives somewhere in between. I think she’d rather not.

Last night, I met someone. At least I struck out swinging. Instead of looking. Maybe I am evolving.

Lord, was this girl tall. And young. And interesting. And interested? Perhaps...

Yet, as I lie here in bed the next morning, I don’t even know if I want to see her again. Even if she was quasi-attractive. And quasi-interesting. And did I mention she was tall?

I no longer mistake loneliness for love. And if she’s going to be a challenge, and make me WORK for being in her life... well, she needs to look like my li’l dime.

So much whisky was consumed last night. Hell, maybe I am still drunk. I don’t want to adult. I don’t want to people. I don’t want to do anything.

However, there are things to do. People to avoid. And life intervenes.

I just found out the world doesn’t revolve around me. I hate it here.