Hello, old friend...

I've come to talk with you again....



I wish I had some deep realizations or impending questions to expunge into nobody in particular, but the truth is, I keep those for myself now. And damn... it feels so good...

180 on a dime

Ireland ruled. French girls rule. NY ruled. BTBAM rules. American Airlines brake ride certified. Alaska Airlines departure coordinator certified. Fat check comin in tomorrow and is gonna get me dipped for a bit. san diego next week. cancun next month with a beautiful azn. alaska in february to see the northern lights. hawaii in march just because i can. miami in april for a change of weather. korea in may for beach bonfires. rio de janeiro in june for a waste of a tax return. australia in july with my bonus check. and denver, seattle, and los angeles always. keep at the register or the desk or the test... ill be light years away...

Green Land.

I wish I remembered this site exists more often.

Going to NY, Ireland, and London on Monday. It's going to be a wild wild time. Me and this dude Cameron I work with are going. He's about as much a fan of booze and fun as I am so it should spawn lifelong stories. Thinkin about hitting San Diego on the way back for an overdue visit to Jake Stewart. Coming back from all this on the 18th, then working my life away for a few months to step my game up.

Life is goooooood....

Breathing deeply, walking backwards

I awaken shrouded in a thick veil of sweat. 3:10. I can feel the sunlight breathing on me through a closed window, the blinds translucent. Above, the background rhythm of my ceiling van remains eternal, letting the sounds of the world weave melodies around it. Definitely time to wake up. I pull my sticky legs together and sit up . Christ, its fucking hot. Somebody is grilling bacon somewhere close. Who the fuck makes bacon at 3:10 p.m. on a Thursday? I languidly gaze towards my nightstand. Amidst the bottles and various scrapbooks of time, I spy a pack of lucky strikes. Two left. I quickly steal one from the soft cellophane "box" and pat my nonexistant pockets habitually for a lighter. No dice. I'm in boxer briefs. What happened last night? The piercing silence lays down a tune over the fan. I bail to the kitchen and take out some bacon to make. Why is turkey bacon so much more expensive? Its a leaner meat, so technically it weighs less and should cost more. Thank god for the food stamps. God? No... thank myself for the food stamps. The blonde on the couch makes a soft groan and rolls back to sleep. Its hot and I imagine rolling over on a leather couch to be at least a little irritating. Must still be drunk. Of course she is, its 3:10 in the fucking afternoon. I hate cooking bacon. The reason I get turkey isn't because its healthier, no; I've got enough unhealthy habits to undo a marathon runner's regimen... I get turkey bacon because it spits less. You know... it doesn't throw grease on your knuckles or bare feet. And the pan is just a LITTLE easier to clean. I survey the fridge for an aid to my immediate thirst and find only a water faucet. Is it the first of the month yet? Not even close. I hate tap water. Not even any ice, either. Who is this girl on the couch? I really wouldn't even let her sleep with me? She really means that little to me? I guess in my intoxication, I didn't want her to be synonymous with a name that means something to me. A relic from my past. Ancient history resurfacing. But hey now that its morning, fuck it. I scoop her up and carry her to my bed. 5'3" and thin, a monument to vulnerability. Where did she go astray to wind up sleeping on the couch of a retch like me? She's pretty enough to be staring at me from a billboard. And naked enough to be taunting me from a news stand. Its too hot to function, so I stop functioning. I tip up a bottle of Popov, and my guilt vanishes. Livin cheap ain't easy man... I guess I'll always be wringing out the American dream before I soak it in gas and strike a match. She deserves better, so I give her better... I scoop her up again and put her on the bench outside my complex.... Anything is better than this...

Out of night comes day, out of day comes night.

Thoughts:

Juliette Binoche needs to be my wife. I'm drinking the sweetest unsweetened tea I've ever had, and its sugar free? I love iPhone. I need a sandwich. My room is dirty. Spongebob is excellent. Researching chameleon care. I lost at scrabble to my genious uncle. beer goggles + hotornot.com = fun. Bought a car today. An iPod would do me well. I need to look into piano lessons. my fan squeaks making it tough to sleep. craigslist is superb. Tomato soup and grilled cheese sounds good.

Later.

Sacramento-Seattle-Anchorage-Denver-Portland.



(Won't) see you thursday

smiles for nautical miles and knots

It is 4:02 a.m. on a Monday morning... I am with one of my best friends watching dumb and dumber. I haven't been to sleep in almost 24 hours. I woke up at 9am and worked from 11am to 1:30 am. We are pulling an absolute all nighter and then in about an hour, we're riding bikes to lake berryessa and back... me and two of my best friends. can life get better? really? I was supposed to go to denver today for a few days and catch a rockies game, but the flights are all full of course. So instead, me and Jake are catching a plane to seattle for the day then coming back at night. Work is getting more and more intense and I'm working insane hours. They added a bunch of new flights and dont have the staff to efficiently deal with it. So theres a lot of overtime available. Next week on my days off, Im going to LA for sam's birthday... week after that, Im gonna try denver again, after that, Alaska. I can't slow down. I won't slow down. I can't stop. I won't stop.









And ive had wayyyy too much coffee...