Friday, September 24, 2021, 7:52 am

No words

Then, suddenly, I have nothing to say.

I’m not reading. I’m not writing. I’m certainly not fucking. Hell, I’m not even drinking.

What’s the matter with me? And what have I been doing?

Well, I feel caught up on sleep for the first time in ages. And I have been sitting on the futon and staring at the wall.

Once again, I find myself not knowing what I want. Nowhere to go. Nothing to do. I don’t (necessarily) want to stay. And the miser inside doesn’t want to spend the money to go anywhere.

Yet, he’s okay with collecting again. In the middle of a purge. Bastard.

People keep stealing my pens. And I walked away from a perfectly good set of glasses. And measuring cups.

And there are always books. Books that sit on the shelf. Never getting read.

Okay, never isn’t the right word. For I know I’ll read again. I just can’t get into the book I’m currently reading.

Perhaps, because I still don’t believe in love. Pleasures of the flesh? Yes. And the chemical high that produces? Yes. But love? True love? No. I don’t think so.

To the point where I don’t even want to meet some beauty and have some fun. This. This is my tragedy. Because girls just want to have fun. So, why shouldn’t I?

Instead, I appease my monkey-mind by collecting. And consuming. More. MoRe. MORE. MOAR!!

I had a list of goals for the summer. I hit all but one, which was beyond my control. Maybe not entirely.

I like things easy. I wanted to be in Bucharest. Right. Now. Along came Delta, and increased flight times. And increased flight budgets. So I postponed. Again.

It was during my “rational” explanation of this to a friend that I discovered “I don’t want…” a lot.

It’s true. I don’t want to do anything. Often, I don’t. Do I like my life? Most of the time, I think I do.

I only question when the Amazon packages arrive. In the middle of the purge.

And when I’m not reading. Nor writing. Nor fucking. Nor even drinking.

It’s okay though. Everything will be okay.

What i'm listening to:
Shoot for the Stars, Aim for the Moon Mood Swings
Pop Smoke, Lil Tjay
Shoot for the Stars, Aim for the Moon

Monday, September 20, 2021, 10:46 am

Love, American style

I needed to see you, so I rolled up in front of your house. You saw me and ran across the street and into my arms.

It’s only been six weeks, since we last saw each other, yet this time was… different.

Your eyes were so bright as you chattered on and on about what’s been going on this summer. We shared pictures on our phones of our respective summers. And we finally filled the void of having no photos together.

You looked so fucking incredible, and I told you. And I still can’t get over how excited you were. You confessed you want me to come back. That life isn’t the same without me. You even inquired about the logistics of coming to see me.

Over the summer, you even reconnected with your crazy ex, out of a moment of desperation and loneliness. I reminded you that you can call me anytime—even if it’s to tell you to, “Stay away from him, you dumb bitch.”

Then I had to go. Since, we have messaged a little. We’ve exchanged the selfies we took. Then nothing.

I may never understand why there’s so much electricity when we’re together, yet so much disinterest when we’re apart. Why is ghosting our norm? We only play games when we’re away from each other. I don’t understand why.

And then, there’s you…

You were so excited about seeing me. You’re sending selfies in a cute pink dress while I’m still three cities away. You’re messaging me about food and logistics and where I’m staying.

You came over to my flat. I discovered you weren’t wearing a bra or panties under your dress. I discovered your ticklish spots. And you stayed the night.

You told me about your entire summer. And I told you about mine. We shared photos on our phones, while consuming a Sonic cream slush and a couple of beers.

Yet, in your case, the rapport acts as a fire extinguisher. There’s no fire. No passion. We’re going through the motions. And I don’t know why. Well, maybe I do.

Perhaps, my ability to see the Matrix after taking that red pill is truly making me tragically single. Perhaps.

Or, perhaps there is still a girl out there that is truly my girl. One who is looking for an adventure and an evolution, in addition to an extraordinary experience. One who understands my life and where I am in my journey.

For now, I’ll just enjoy my experiences with my sweethearts as well as my periods of solitude.

For now. I just wish the signals were more... consistent.

What i'm listening to:
Starboy I Feel It Coming
The Weeknd, Daft Punk
Starboy

Monday, September 13, 2021, 8:57 pm

Hee hee

Why do girls keeps touching my stomach?

Friday, September 10, 2021, 2:47 pm

Gotta let it go

Tonight, if the world is falling down
Put your best dress on
'Cause after rain there's always sun
Let's go out for some fun
If it's the last thing that we do
And it all ends tomorrow
I wanna be with you tonight
Tonight, tonight
What i'm listening to:
Tonight Tonight
Alice Chater
Tonight

Thursday, September 9, 2021, 3:25 am

Not the elf you're looking for

I don’t know why I bristle at the word, “Buddy.”

I guess it’s a throwback from the past. Too many girls who used it to friendzone someone. Like, “friend.”

And “Awww, thanks.”

Yet it shouldn’t bother me if I’m not attracted to her, right? Unless, deep, deep down, I really want to sleep with her.

That’s not entirely outside of the realm of possibility. After all, it is easy to find SOMETHING attractive about every girl. And it may not be possible for men and women to be friends.

Anyway, I wish you’d stop calling me, “Buddy.” Let’s just get that out of the way right now.

Wednesday, September 8, 2021, 11:37 am

Life ends

Life ends. I will not allow myself to be indoctrinated to be so afraid to lose my life that I sacrifice my life by forgetting to live my life.

Live as if there is no tomorrow. There may not be.

Dark? Perhaps.

Yet, this is nature at her finest. It has always been this way. There is no cure for death, and the reaper shall find us all one day.

So, live.

Monday, September 6, 2021, 6:38 am

Stopping the overshare

It’s a beautiful, hazy morning in the north woods. The layer of fog gives the scenery more depth. Truly breathtaking!

It’s so true. Beauty needs a witness.

And I am truly blessed to be there.

Yet, there’s that impulse… to pull out the phone. To snap a picture. To keep the image of beauty. Forever.

Followed by that realization… is that really necessary? I get it though. It feels hypocritical to even mention it.

Why not capture it? Relive the beauty over and over again? As if there’ll never be any more beauty?

Or better yet, share it? Put it on the Facebook? The Instagram? Show it to the world! Five likes! More!

But, no.

I left my phone in my pocket. I basked in the view. In the end, we will only have our memories. Perhaps there is value in capturing a snapshot of that moment in time. Of some moments.

Not all.

Again, I fear I’m a hypocrite… for Instagram is a reminder of so much beauty in the world.

I must remind myself to take a step back.

Yes, that snapshot of the African landscape is amazing. Your hamburger looks delicious. Do I wish I was with you on a beach in Ibiza? Hell, yes!

And those abs you’ve obtained on your fitness journey? I am truly impressed, especially since you’re sharing workout and fitness details.

Then there’s those alluring ensellures. I grow weak.

I must remind myself to take a step back.

If the beauty on Instagram is so overwhelming, doesn’t that indicate that beauty, while it needs a witness, is also common?

Yes, that SoCal blonde with brown eyes is beautiful and funny and sensational. Yes, that New York Latina is luscious and sensual, yet oddly introverted. Yes, that Thai beauty who makes cupcakes ignites the wanderlust, and the Thai cravings.

What about that gorgeous brunette at the gym, who’s name (or social media handle) you do not even know. And the wonderful, tanned law school student who’s boat you magically ended up on at a lake concert. And the flirtacious coffee shop owner with the freckles and blue eyes who you find yourself fantasizing about at odd hours of the night.

Maybe there is value in that these observations, these memories, are mine. Maybe everything doesn’t need to be shared. Nor captured. Only remembered.

Friday, September 3, 2021, 1:13 pm

A connection?

In case you didn’t know, I have a strong aversion to coffee. It smells and tastes vile and wretched.

Family members said my tastes would change as I got older.

They lied.

Yet, I also suffer from low-grade narcolepsy. And frequently sleep thirteen hours in a day.

Hmm… I wonder if there’s a connection there?

Impossible—after all, Mountain Dew doesn’t affect my sleep needs either.

On that note, I need a nap.

Friday, September 3, 2021, 10:45 am

Not as advertised

I’m not afraid of dying. Or life. Or illness. Or viruses.

As such, I don’t really have feelings one way or the other on getting vaccinated. I know many who are passionate on one side or the other, but I am not.

My guideline has been this: I’ll get the vaccine when the urge to wander returns. That belief that the vaccine will allow travel—especially internationally.

So, I am vaccinated. And Romania is summoning me.

And overnight, the flights have disappeared. My passport is, yet again, not worth the paper it is printed on.

“When COVID ends…” sounds a LOT like “When I win the lottery…”

So, I continue to wait. Maybe I’ll just buy a sailboat… at least I’m ready.

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