The Littlest Giant

Ditto. Also disregard.

Wed, 06 Jul 2011 16:14:34 -0400

Ditto. Also disregard.

Posting this for a reason that I haven’t gotten to yet....

Wed, 06 Jul 2011 16:14:17 -0400

Posting this for a reason that I haven’t gotten to yet. Disregard.

On losing it:

Tue, 05 Jul 2011 22:10:00 -0400

Tonight was a quiet night and no one was around, so I drove to my favorite running spot a few towns away. I put on a playlist and took off into the woods for a 10 mile run.

For a while, I was fine. I made small talk with a woman who was jogging about the likelihood of being attacked by a black bear (small, although there are bears in the area), I started to focus and I was headed for my zen happy place. Whatever anyone else finds in prayer or meditation, I find when I exercise. It’s my time to focus all of my attention on one thing so I don’t have to think about all of the other shit. Anyway.

As I came around a corner, I found myself running directly into a beautiful sunset. Rather than stop, I noted how pretty it was and pressed on.

And then something happened. I fucking lost it. Every memory from the last year - every goddamn one - was right there in front of me. From last May, when everything started to fall apart through last August when my dad died to a few days after - when I had to break up with someone I loved because they kept hurting me. Through autumn, dating someone who I later found out still had a boyfriend (this happened in the winter, too, and it was much worse then. Being used for sex is a weird feeling. But I digress.), trying to keep my family from falling apart, being unable to find a job, and feeling completely useless. Through all of it, I bit my lip and (with the exception of the occasional woe-is-me Tumblr post) told no one. I hadn’t cried in 2 years.

So I lost it. I sat there and cried. I don’t know how long I was there for - 5 minutes or 40 - neither would surprise me. When it was over, I didn’t feel any better. I don’t know if I felt much of anything. I finished the run, got in my car, and went home. I wish I could tie all this up in a neat little package by telling you how much better I feel now, but… I dunno. I just feel weird tonight and I’m looking forward to a drink.

There is a beautiful girl sitting right next to me in an empty bar… and I have no desire to...

Sat, 11 Jun 2011 20:57:59 -0400

There is a beautiful girl sitting right next to me in an empty bar… and I have no desire to talk to her.

Did I accidentally grow up?! Am I broken?!?! Is this normal?!?!?!

Wandering thoughts

Sun, 08 May 2011 22:33:00 -0400

I was a very serious child. My brothers were 17 (almost 18) and 12 (almost 13) when I was born; my sister was 16 (almost 17). I grew up fast and have acted like an adult (albeit a delightfully immature one) for my entire life.

I learned to read before I turned 3 and have spent the intervening 20 years with my nose buried in newspaper articles and editorials. I can remember being 3 years old and worrying about the long-term geopolitical implications of the (first) Gulf War. When I was 5, I sat with my dad while we read the paper and asked him to explain the stock market to me. When I was 7, I asked the surgeon so many technical questions about my impending tonsil removal that he eventually just put the gas mask on me mid-question and went to work, unable to tolerate further interrogation. A remark from my 6th grade teacher on my report card:

“I worry about Mike. His peers seem afraid of him because they do not understand him. I have never come across a child with such a need to understand the “big picture” at all times. His attention in class wanes, but he will occasionally ask complex, often philosophical questions that I cannot answer without confusing the other children.”

And on and on. My brain never stops, and it makes me very tired.

So here I am, less than 2 hours before my 23rd birthday and trying to make it through the night without smoking pot - quite literally the only substance (and I’ve tried a lot of them, trust me) that slows my brain to a manageable pace. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve taken a break from smoking, but it’s clear I’m not going to make it through the night without, because I’m crawling out of my fucking skull.

I think I’m worried about being classified as a stoner (because, well, I’m not), but pot is often my best option. I can’t take the emotional wear and tear of worrying about everyfuckingthing at all times and I can’t/won’t drink to relax. I come from a long, prodigious line of alcoholics who drank for the same reason and eventually lost control. I monitor everything that goes in my body. I rarely drink two nights in a row. I’ve had enough experience with booze at this point that I doubt that I would end up like my grandfathers, great uncles, cousins, or my dad - completely powerless to stop drinking or to deal with the logical consequences thereof - but I still won’t chance it.

I’ll be very happy to mellow a bit with age. Hurry up, age.

I can’t help but wonder whether the fact that I’m not even on speaking terms with any...

Tue, 03 May 2011 11:10:00 -0400

I can’t help but wonder whether the fact that I’m not even on speaking terms with any girl I have ever dated says something profound/dire/profoundly dire about me as a person or is just a side effect of a disastrous relationship track record in general.

I need to find an excuse to be out of town on Wednesday. I try not to bitch about this sort of thing...

Sat, 30 Apr 2011 23:22:22 -0400

I need to find an excuse to be out of town on Wednesday. I try not to bitch about this sort of thing too much anymore, but Wednesday will be a year since the last time I talked to my dad. That whole situation was (and is and always will be, I suppose) way, way, WAY more complicated than just about anyone knows and I’m really alright with it for the most part, but I need to be somewhere else so I don’t turn into a fucking trainwreck.

I don’t use this thing (thing=blog) much because, at this point, the only reason I blog at all is to break up the monotony of whatever bullshit tasks I do to simulate the sense of productivity that a job would ideally provide. I have a phone interview with a company in NYC on Monday afternoon. If they offer me the job, I’m taking it and packing my bags, regardless of the salary. I’ll shine shoes or or pour coffee or sleep with wealthy old women or whatever, but I know most of my current problems are the result of feeling stagnant and I’m about done with it. Whatev whatev. I’m going to smoke something and chill outside and listen to Miles Davis and write for a bit.

I liked this so I’m putting it back up here.

Sun, 10 Apr 2011 23:39:59 -0400

I liked this so I’m putting it back up here.

Why is she still threatening me? Dear god. I still haven’t done anything wrong. I just want to...

Sun, 27 Mar 2011 18:11:00 -0400

Why is she still threatening me? Dear god. I still haven’t done anything wrong. I just want to be left alone.

Did… did you just use my toothbrush?

Fri, 25 Mar 2011 22:51:18 -0400

Did… did you just use my toothbrush?

Someone asked me tonight why I majored in psychology. I typically tell people almost nothing when...

Mon, 14 Mar 2011 01:32:14 -0400

Someone asked me tonight why I majored in psychology. I typically tell people almost nothing when they ask this. Instead, I steer the question to why I gave up psychology: “Because it’s a crock of shit.” That’s my answer, and that answer itself is a crock of shit. I don’t know why I quit psychology, but I do know why I majored in it: I wanted to fix everyone.

My dad used to call me Henry Kissinger. It was funnier as a child, before I realized the sort of disgusting human that Kissinger actually was, but my dad wasn’t implying any of that. It was simply his way of pointing out that I was the peacemaker. My brothers and sister are between 13 and almost 18 years older than I am. They grew up together and fought quite a bit, but by the time I came around, some of the hormones responsible for the bickering had balanced themselves and all was well. Sort of. It was irrelevant to me because, as the baby brother, my role was to entertain everyone, to study hard and be smart, and to try to keep everyone happy. So why did I major in psychology? Because I wanted to fix everyone.

My home life was fucked up in a totally ordinary working-class way that I don’t know if I’ll ever feel comfortable talking to anyone about, but I had myself for company, and that was often it. I read and wondered about everything and I even managed to figure out bits and pieces. When it came time to decide on a career path (at age 18… I swear, there is nothing more fucked up than asking an 18-year old what they want to do for the rest of their lives. You know what they want to do? Drugs, and anything of the opposite sex that moves. I digress.), I couldn’t think of anything I would be better at. I had spent my entire life doing it for free anyway.

The whole dream started to crumble a little over two years ago. Alzheimer’s robbed my grandmother of a working memory for her final decade or so, and anyone who was paying attention could see that my dad was headed down the same road. For those of you who haven’t spent time around Alzheimer’s patients, I’ll give you the Cliff’s Notes version: there is no making things better, you’re just hanging on until the shell of the person you once loved gives up a chase they don’t even know they’re in and dies. That’s it.

Some of the problems I wanted so badly to fix died with my dad. I miss those problems. I had twenty years to think about them and, for a while, I thought I could fix them. Life is what happens when you’re busy making plans.

So my familiar problems have been replaced by new ones. I don’t know these ones as well, and I miss the cold comfort of my old ones. These can’t be fixed with a grand effort, though I now realize that my old ones couldn’t, either. Up close, these giants look just like windmills. I’m 22 and half-dead. I’m here by myself now, and the only one left to fix is me.

Hey, I’m reposting that thing here but you’re under no obligation to relike it or...

Mon, 14 Mar 2011 01:31:39 -0400

Hey, I’m reposting that thing here but you’re under no obligation to relike it or whatever. I’m just putting it here because I’ll probably delete it because I delete goddamn near everything because my family (etc.) reads it.

Actually, I hope no one ever feels any need to ‘like’ something because you like me. I always think about that. Sometimes I write things and it feels like people are just clapping for me, like, “Aww, look! He’s trying!” but really they’re just lurking in my askbox asking for nude photos. I dunno. This is the behind-the-scenes stuff you can only get by following the blog I made out of frustrated boredom on a whim. So, you know.

I was writing a story but started losing interest so I smoked a...

Thu, 24 Feb 2011 00:21:18 -0500

I was writing a story but started losing interest so I smoked a joint and went to the grocery store and bought 3 fucking pounds of peanuts. Bet I can eat half tonight.

I wonder if I could answer a Craigslist ad and get some old guy to bring me Taco Bell, then tell him...

Sun, 06 Feb 2011 00:26:47 -0500

I wonder if I could answer a Craigslist ad and get some old guy to bring me Taco Bell, then tell him I changed my mind and make him leave.

For Tyler.

Thu, 03 Feb 2011 23:36:24 -0500

For Tyler.

Chocolate bluntz. Aaaand that’ll do it for tonight.

Tue, 01 Feb 2011 23:21:08 -0500

Chocolate bluntz. Aaaand that’ll do it for tonight.

I love thrift stores.

Tue, 01 Feb 2011 18:59:48 -0500

I love thrift stores.

yell0w: we come to this place like two convicts that have...

Tue, 01 Feb 2011 12:58:32 -0500

yell0w:

we come to this place like two convicts that have escaped from the prison of everyday, and for the moment, we have our stay…

I miss the chitlins right now.

Mon, 31 Jan 2011 21:54:30 -0500

I miss the chitlins right now.

Fuck you, buddy.

Mon, 31 Jan 2011 21:47:00 -0500

Fuck you, buddy.