Daily Reflection 4th January 2017

It is 19 muthaphuckin’ degrees out! One nine–nineteen! That is thirten degrees below zero for those of you who don’t math or science. I keep trying to talk my ex-wife into moving back, just so I can have a buddy. But that will never happen at this rate. She hates the cold. Which is laughable seeming she lives in New England. 

I was all excited to hit the gym for the first time today, but the chill is in my bones and I am in a butt load of pain.After getting very little sleep (to illustrate, I am typing this on my phone on the train and I keep passing out with my eyes open and dropping my phone as quickly as blinking), not enough to eat, and in pain and it 19 degrees, I am in no position to go to to the gym. So my first day at the gym was for not. 

Maybe tomorrow.
©

Daily Reflection 3 January 2017

My loans came in today so I decided I am going to take the initiative to focus on some of the long overlooked areas of my life. I went and got a new phone as I have been trying to read through a broken screen. But most importantly, I got a gym membership and a fresh set of gym clothes, for the first time in my life.

I was always waiting for my situation to be better, whether it would be financially or physically, to go to the gym. However, my weight and my heath are diminishing too rapidly for me to put it off any longer.

I am very excited to go to the gym tomorrow after work for the first time. I am looking forward to doing some cardio and maybe playing with some weights. Being a gym virgin, I am little scared but I can’t allow that fear to drive me to an early grave anymore.

I even got an mp3 player to listen to while in the gym, and loaded it some of the latest hardcore I have been loving lately, and even some old school shit I am hoping will pump me up in the gym and help me go that extra mile.

Speaking of gym, I need to hit the sack so I can have gotten at least a little rest before beginning my long trek through hell. I am hoping to upload some video of me. I think it will be funny, if anything.

Daily Reflection 2 January 2017

I missed the first day of the year, as I was extremely busy and in deep practice of distracting myself from the introspective and reflective melancholy that strikes me like a sledgehammer to the kidneys every New Years Day. I had planned my day around hitting the Fang show that night with my boys, which was a success. We made up about a third of the audience and the band was killer, even after having played a matinee show not but hours prior and it being the end of their tour.

I returned home later than usual only to fall asleep and wake up earlier than usual to open the vape shop. I spent the majority of the day today fighting off exhaustion, and trying to think of what I was going to write tonight. I was hoping to make this a bit more topical, as I have come to loathe the self-importance of writing my thoughts and feelings, as if they bear any weight on whomever may stumble across this blog.

And still I am so wrapped up in my own self-pity and lonesomeness that I have come to believe that I must write through the bullshit if I am ever going to come to anything culturally valid and noteworthy. SO bear with me as I indulge myself yet again. At least maybe now I can just reference this blog post, instead of trying to explain myself.

I initially got sober ten years ago. Eight and half years ago, due to the same crippling lonesomeness that is still the prevalent tone of my day-to-day life, I tried to kill myself via overdose, but being unsuccessful all I got out of the deal was a relapse. So I have been continually sober for eight and half years. But this blog is dealing with the whole ten years. For in this ten years of sobriety, I have been single and sexually inactive for eight and a half years of it. Nine months was spent primarily in a long distance relationship, where the distance between us continued to grow, not just physically but intimately as well. The other nine months period was spent with a girl damn near half my age. After the longest period of time I had gone without knowing the touch of a woman, a drop dead gorgeous eighteen year old basically placed herself in my lap, and I threw away everything I knew to be ethical and correct solely for the sake of not being alone anymore. Needless to say that relationship ended in a great deal of heart break that took me two years to get over. In March it will be three years since she has left I will still have spent the time alone minus a handful of uneasy encounters. That is not for lack of trying.

I have spent the majority of life as a sober human trying to figure out what is wrong with me and my perspective of the world that I remain so perpetually single and alone. Granted I have had a number of opportunities to have sex or date the completely wrong person. But after my last bout with foregoing my ethics, I have decided against it on each occasion. One would think though, that even in the face of that, coupled with my level attractiveness (I am not ugly. Maybe chubby but not ugly.) and my lovers/artists heart, that I might still be able to find a mate. And yet everyday, I watch as my peers fall in and out of love, in and out of numerous beds, and I am still the one who seems doomed to be alone. This and all the while being the go-to-guy for a great deal of friends who seek my input about their relationships, or lack thereof.

I often find myself wondering if it has to do with my antiquated ideal of romance, the same bullshit lie that every John Hughes film has convinced us, that we must be friends first before we are to ever become lovers. However in the early days of my somewhat imposed celibacy, I heard the same response over and over again:

“You are more like a brother to me,” ” I just don’t see you like that,” and the ever infamous, “I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

These would cut. Now I am NOT bitching about being put in the “friendzone” and I have NEVER thought that being “nice” entitled me to everything. I am mostly commenting about the frequency and the lack of the other way around. I suffer from no delusion that “if I am just a jerk women will like me.” And no matter what, I will always remain an ally to women, and have no desire to be romantic with anyone who doesn’t feel EXACTLY the same way about me.

(It is getting late and this is already three days late so I will wrap it up)

After all is said and done, I just don’t understand what keeps me from being able to achieve any amount of success in the romance department. There a few reasons that seem valid, like my inherent gruff exterior, obscene opinionatedness, my lack of levity, being fat, sullen, angry and serious all the time. Unfortunately these are things I neither can nor want to fix, as any “fix” would be a departure from the man that has struggled and bled my way to where I am now. I am trying to cultivate some levity, but I find most small talk demeaning and shallow. I would rather be intelligent and serious than stupid and carefree.

So I am going to shut up about this now. Good day and good night.

When the going gets tough . . .

I love that direct action is being called for all over the world right now. It is an exciting time to be alive. Here is one of many things happening. Join us in our boycott of cities, states, business’ and the like that are either willfully indifferent to police brutality and racial injustice or are deliberately destructive partners with it.

http://www.injusticeboycott.com/

Hopeless Curses and the Subsequent Lifting

Tonight, after one hundred eight years, the Chicago Cubs beat the Cleveland Indians in an almost rained-out 10th inning of Game 7 of the 2016 World Series, to take the series. What was often touted as a curse, the Cubs win tonight ended their century long bar from the World Series and the lifted the spirits of millions of Americans.

(At this moment I would to recognize the Cleveland Indians, as they haven’t won a World Series since 1948, and also have a diehard fan base. It is unfortunate that the Cubs winning in 2016 will often overshadow the amazing season the Indians had this year. Great job Cleveland.)

So as a Boston Red Sox fan, I shouldn’t be rooting for any other team. But as a fan of a franchise that was also one of the “cursed clubs,” I have always had a soft spot in my heart for Chicago, not to mention their deep affiliation with the Irish, labor, organized crime, and delicious food. But I have also always been a champion of the underdog. And since 2004 the Red Sox have lost their underdog card. So when the Cubs went to the series, I was excited. And when they won tonight I started weeping. At first I wasn’t sure why, but on the train home I realized something.

The curses are all lifted. The Curse of the Bambino. The Curse of the Old Man amd the Goat (or something like that). But these only symbolize my own curses. The Curse of Homelessness. The Curse of Perpetual Violence. The Curse of Heroin. The Curse of the Bottle. All these curses have been lifted, at least the curses I personally identify with.

I dont know how to communicate what I am experiencing but it feels as if someone has just open the prison door and unshackled me. I am no longer tethered to anything holding me back. I haven’t been for a few years, but I am never able to see my own growth until someone else points it out. And in this case it was the lifting of the Curse of the Chicago Cubs.