File for unemployment…😒
Scour the streets of New York City in search of just the right neighborhood bartending job.
Draw a cartoon and caption it. Post it. It better be funny.
Write a blog post. Post it. This one doesn’t count.
Read someone else’s blog post and leave a comment. Try not to embarrass yourself this time.
Go for a jog around the reservoir. Say hi to the geese. And while you’re at it go ahead and do 34 squats and 34 push-ups.
Organize your desk god dammit. You’re paying for a two bedroom. Go in there and use it.
Change Mac’s litter.
Laundry? I guess so. Damn. Better get going.
We just stared into each other’s eyes for seven minutes straight. He set the timer. Sat on top of me in bed and looked down. It was hard to focus at first. My eyes shifted back and forth as I tried to look at one eye or the other instead of both. He said it was ok, that I could just focus on one. So I chose the scar in between both. That little portal at the top of the bridge of his nose. I could dive into it and swim to another world. And I did. Well I tried. And he stared at me, into my eyes. I couldn’t really see his eyes any more. I could see his hair falling into his face on the periphery but really I was trying to lose myself into him with out letting him lose himself in me. I tried to deflect his exploration by sending him telepathic messages. Stick your tongue out at me. Stick your tongue out at me. Stick your tongue out at me. But he would only lean in and try to kiss me. Or we would giggle. Twice I actually fell into a tranced only to jar myself awake and try to shuffle out of the whole thing. But he didn’t let go. He said he was going to stare into my eyes for seven minutes no matter what. He said that it does something. That he’d done it once with a guy from postcrypt. A total stranger. Everyone did it that day he said. And now when ever they see each other on campus they snap their fingers and nod their heads at each other. So I saw it through. And toward the end I fell into the trance yet again only this time I didn’t wake. We continued staring. My eyes began to water but I kept them open. He asked if I was ok. I was. When the timer went off I felt robbed. Like a bus had taken off just as I made it to the bus stop panting. He said it does something. I hope it does.
Yesterday I had a very productive day. Crossed everything off the list. Today I’m finding it difficult to dredge up motivation. Don’t get me wrong I’ve been crossing things off here and there but there is just this icky feeling about the day. The sky is grey. I miss my family. I miss my boyfriend. I want to go to sleep and start all over again tomorrow but I work tonight. Only a few hours left to cross more off the list. Good thing posting is one of them.
Testament to how bad I am at managing this blog, I just discovered four actual comments that have been awaiting moderation for months. And for this little blog, that’s like walking over a winning lottery ticket over and over again. I’m bad at this ok. I mean well but I see shiny nickels with silver butterfly wings fluttering around every corner and I get distracted. Anyway I’ve been trying to post more again. New year new shoes you know. Mostly I’ve been dredging through NaNoWriMo run off and posting what I can. I’m trying to remember to illustrate when I can. More attention grabbing right? Considering just posting my illustrated stories right on Instagram. That’ll show ’em. Ha! Who? I don’t know. Is it time for a drink yet?
The man on the bus said “God is in charge. God is in charge of all countries, not just the United States, not just Israel, not just China but God is in charge of every country. Italy. Spain. Mexico. Guam. Puerto Rico. The Dominicans. Europe. All the kingdoms of the past and all the governments of the future. God is in charge, He is large and He is ever present. Let me tell you what the United States did to you. You all worship money. I love all of you and when you can love the human next to you, then you will know that God is in charge.” He pulled a crinkled dollar bills from his pocket. “This is the enemy. I know you all gay, dope fiends, alcoholics, evil. I’m not judging y’all. I just know. I can walk down this bus, up and down this bus and tell which one of you all is good and which one of you is evil. I know y’all is going to work. Good morning. Did you remember to say good morning to Jesus Christ this morning?”
I stopped listening. He was sitting right in front of me. He looked at me as he talked. Was I one of the good ones or was I one of the evil ones? I don’t even believe in that concept but he spoke with such conviction that I felt like maybe he did have some sort of basis for comparison. Maybe I wasn’t good or bad but somewhere in between and he could tell how many points I had stacked against me. I mean what have I done in my life that is so evil? And why do I keep thinking that I am one of the evil ones?
He’s wrong about one thing though. I’m not on my way to work. I’m leaving. Leaving my apartment. Leaving my girlfriend. Leaving the dog. I got up this morning. Got dressed. Walked out with my brief case and a gym bag full of jeans and t-shirts. I normally don’t even take this bus. I’m on my way to the train station. I’m out of here. Done.
“Does your girlfriend know? Does your girlfriend know you are leaving her?” The man asked me directly. In my ears I could hear that he was still ranting. In my eyes I could see his mouth was moving and sound was coming out. He was still talking about evil and good. But no. He was asking me directly. Did she know I was leaving her?
Of course she knows. She has to. It was bound to happen and I can’t wait another minute. I cannot stand to be around her anymore. Or the dog. The dog hates me and she thinks it’s my fault.
“But you haven’t told her yet?”
She’s threatened to leave me so many times. She’s been on her way back to her mother’s now for two years. And we’ve only lived together for three. What kind of life is that? That’s not a relationship. Every time we have an argument she acts like her mom is in a woman’s shelter and I’m driving her to it. I don’t even yell at her. I barely raise my voice and she acts like I’m pushing her around.
“Damn. That bad? Be honest though… you gay right?”
She thought it was a stye. But it wasn’t. It was a new little world growing, multiplying, evolving, incubated by a universe of puss in her lower right eyelid. A hot compress warned of destruction. Her thumb and forefinger applied an apocalypse of pressure. She knew she wasn’t supposed to pop it, whether it was a stye or a nano world, but at least it would heal before the night of gala.
Another Saturday night behind the bar trying to make some arbitrary post dead line. Midnight. I’ll be fine. This won’t be much longer than a few sentences. I’m in a good mood today. It’s snowed off and on all day. We ordered cheese burgers with bacon and fried eggs. Smoked. Had good sex. Watched youtube. Ordered pizza. Had more, even better sex. Napped. And yeah I’m a little tired now but I always am when I’m here. It’s a good tired tonight though. Relaxed. Ready for the night to drift into five a.m.