Particularly fuzzy and muddled right now, I’m back from a flurry of dates that were a welcome distraction from myself. The tinge of blue has set in, though, with the two drinks, and I’m listening to Townes Van Zandt, nursing beige idle s-word ideation. There is a certain truth and Žižekian force of paradoxical loneliness that sets in with these outings and tentative connections. It’s good, fun, but also, almost grimly sad sometimes. read more...

This is where I’m at: still taking the pills, back in desolate but familiar territory, and mustering the courage to get out there and risk a little heart and ego bruising. Chicago was a nice break but it’s time to lose the training wheels and do the big boy thing. Yet, contemplating this, I’m already retreating into my shell, and don’t know how to start. I’ve sent a few texts, I have a coffee date planned for tomorrow, and I’m trying to constructively engage. read more...

I'm goin' down to the Greyhound station Gonna get a ticket to ride Gonna find that lady with two or three kids And sit down by her side Ride 'til the sun comes up and down around me 'Bout two or three times Smokin' cigarettes in the last seat Tryin' to hide my sorrow from the people I meet And get along with it all Go down where the people say y'all Sing a song with a friend Change the shape that I'm in And get back in the game and start playin' again I'd like to stay But I might have to go to start over again Might go back down to Texas Might go to somewhere that I've never been And get up in the mornin' and go out at night And I won't have to go home Get used to bein' alone Change the words to this song, and start singin' again I'm tired of runnin' 'round Lookin' for answers to questions that I already know I could build me a castle of memories Just to have somewhere to go Count the days and the nights that it takes To get back in the saddle again Feed the pigeons some clay, turn the night into day And start talkin' again when I know what to say I'm goin' down to the Greyhound station Gonna get a ticket to ride Gonna find that lady with two or three kids And sit down by her side Ride 'til the sun comes up and down around me 'Bout two or three times Feed the pigeons some clay Turn the night into day And start talkin' again when I know what to say Clay Pigeons by Blaze Foley read more...

Something has to change, seriously. My weekend was completely pathetic and I feel more alone every single fucking day. To top that all off, my workplace has been very unhappy with me, and the pressure is only growing despite my efforts. There’s active avoidance and cancellations, and I feel left in the dark almost intentionally, if not just out of interpersonal tensions. The paranoid side of me thinks this might be some longer play to sabotage my ability to perform and get me fired, but I don’t know. read more...

Another day in the life: the hair falls out, the shadows lengthen and disappear and rise again, the nausea comes and goes in predictable patterns. How is it possible to live in New York City and feel this lonely? What did I do to deserve this? I never thought I was that weird, but maybe I really am fucked up and retarded on some fundamental level, and others can sense that and give a wide berth. read more...

Here I am, media res, the house is crumbling around me and I’m full of the boring and predictable self-loathing that only deepens each year past 30. My hands are shaking as I type this, I’m self-medicating, I smoke weed almost every night, I’m drinking pots of caffeine, I’ve started mixing nootropics just for an “edge”, I’m taking Vyvanse despite knowing its chemical effects are similar to cocaine. What is the point of all this whirlwind medication if not to blur out the sharp edges of the feelings that cut you up like ribbons inside? read more...