Evening 032819

So much for daily writing. But, I’ve been productive regardless. I am now officially a smut peddler with my own .com to my name. I’ve got it down to a process thats mostly automated, so thats good. As soon as i can turn a profit i can start looking into getting some more plugins and making other sites, and then really scaling it out.

When i get back into the Red will be a good day. Only will need thirty bucks to cover everything, unless it takes me a few months to make even that. It shouldn’t. Im already bringing in organic traffic and a little from twitter.

Spent about fifteen hours the other day learning the WordPress process, stayed up far into the morning. I haven’t found something that took my attention away for that long in a long time. Felt good to get into a long focused flow state like that.

 

a break

 

the main point of this blog is to be a self-improvement guide for the deep-dark fucked up of us. something i look back on in twelve months, two years, a decade, and can see a roadmap of how i became the man i was supposed to be, if i had only done the things i needed to do when i needed to do them.

in a year, which is right the top of my yearly goal list (ongoing but expanding), is keeping up a few good habits instead of the bad ones. that’s the storyline of the movie. gary will get dragged along by the ears, something tells me. writing here will be one. waking up early will be another. when i have the proper conditions, adding in cold showers will also be one. maybe making a beach run once in a blue moon too, with spring and summer inching closer. a garden, and the accompanying good habits that brings in and of itself (can’t keep things alive well without maintenance). this movie will probably be slow. maybe a boring drama about a thirtysomething fuckup digging in the dirt, maybe with michael caine as an old wise neighbor who stops by from time to time to chat him up with that old slick brit accent of his. he’ll take any script for a nickel, it seems. maybe there will be an action scene with a shovel fight and a bear and some angry skunks. it probably will not be oscar material.

as this act I starts with Our Hero not in the best of shape – in fact, he’s had, not necessarily his worst depressive winter, but one with some of the sharpest down spikes and clouded moments. he hadn’t thought of eating a bullet in quite a few years. but for some reasons he pushed through it and now he’s on the mend, and we’re tracking in on him on a little upswing instead. winter’s almost gone (well, its technically spring) and the snowbanks are on their way out with the muddy income of mud season. he’s got a to-do of slopping some mud into the compost pile as well, a kind of soft slop cap, if you will, layered with snow (“Nature’s Nitrogen”).

he’s the lonliest he’s ever remembered, out of shape, slow of mind, and in a daze. there’s a constant nagging feeling that he’s just woken up from some sort of walking dream. he’s too far into his thirties to be this childish. occasionally, he looks in the mirror and sees the Man he should be staring back at him, peeking out from under the fat and neckbeard and dandruff and beachball belly and dead eyes and Resting Sad Face. He’s smiling under there, too. and its that smile that gary knows he knows how to do when he’s so fucking inclined to do so. gary is a smug little shit sometimes.

–you only get one chance to live, so do it passionately / so you can get a little money and a black mercedes–

but here’s the thing, Our Hero here knows a lot of the answers to why he’s so goddamned unhappy and unfulfilled. he’s known for ages, but he’s never just applied the effort and put in the work, he’s always had Perfection Paralysis of sorts, always needing more information and being prepared more with more instructions and tutorials and this and that, gathering and researching but never applying. he forgot that step. forgot isn’t the correct term, something more apropos would be ignored.

–cuz’ you’re in last place, but you should be first / but you act like hard work makes your pussy hurt–

Our Hero here is a lazy bitch, in essence. gary was a big part in making him so, that’s one of gary’s tendencies as a friend, the dragging-down bit. but Hero’s figured it out, and that’s the key. that’s why the movie started being written in the first place, that little click. the movie started filming when he bought some webspace and started wordvomitting. and gary is in the front row, throwing occasional softball tomatoes. gary does that. i would appoligize for the screen, but that’s one of the things hero needs to work on, so i’m not going to.

see, Our Hero knows everything that’s wrong with his life is his fault. the fact that he’s where he is, in his shitty in-law apartment rotting away in the attic (the reverse basement) with moldy floors and bad plumbing. never having had a properly working closet door (or even doors at all) or a properly closing bedroom door. or a car of his own, or living accomidations he achieved with his sweat or blood. or contentness in crowds or even basic social situations. or a girlfriend, short-term or long, or any kind of romantic relationship aside from very-short-term trysts and awkward fawning and pedestaling. or many friends. or barely any friends at all, aside from some deep friends whom he’s now distanced from so far he feels he’ll never really get to achieve their company much ever again. or why he’s spent the majority of the last three years around the same four people, with the seldom/occasional passing Hello How’re You Goodnyou Finethanks Cash Keepthechange Cheers with the random convenience store clerk or fast food jockey, half the time letting the pennies go because he doesn’t want to deal with the awkward hassle of pocketing them before he gets the fuck outta there.

Our Hero knows how he should approach handling all this shit, but he’s too lazy to do it. and, for some strange reason (he really is confused about the Why’s? to this one), he’s afraid of what happens if he succeeds and gets what he wants. like, really scared. like, like, really, really scared. almost petrified. what happens if he gets some money and has to go back into the Real World? what if he’s able to eat right and get his exercise habit ingrained, and he unfucks himself to the point where he sees Obvious Abdominal Muscles? what happens when that just-his-type brunette babe that he thinks he’s obviously out-of-league for Says “Yes”? OH, fuck, that’s the fucking doozie of them all. he’s gone through some absolute shit in life, that should make this one a tricycle ride in comparison, but talking to girls is still the scariest thing to him right now. and that’s such a problem for Our Hero that he’s gone full Hermit, crazy coot in the woods, wearing skins of hunted animals and foraging for mushrooms and becoming one with the Tree Folk so he can rule over the land of the Elves and finally achieve some sort of legacy and purpose for life. and he knows how he got there:

he got himself there by his own choices… and lack of application on any of those choices.

when people say “when presented with multiple choices, choosing none, or declining to play the game, is a choice in itself”… they’re not lying. taking your ball and going home too many times results in never being invited back to the playground, people forgetting you exist, and then you wondering why you’re so miserable all the time. it’s cause you took your ball and went home and never came back, stupid.

in the end, your meatbag is responsible for whatever happens to its meat.