Introduction to WTF

I wrote this back a few months before moving to the nowhere I’ve now been for five months.

I’m about to walk into my bosses office and notify him that December 31st will be my last day. A new chapter, my friends. Join me in my journey of self exploration! For once, I mean that in a semi serious way, not as a way to get you to watch me make a pee. Cris and I are moving our life operation to a farm in West Texas. A farm in the middle of nowhere. No distractions, no humans, no coloreds or queers, and we plan on changing all that. We will be renting out the Dallas house and putting down the dogs. We even tattooed each others initials on our buttocks. It’s an exciting time. Love and ritual killings are in the air. Hopefully, you’ll understand that most of what I just said is nonsense. We are moving however, as life deserves a change of scenery.

Watching my work life become stagnated over the past decade has been a gut wrenching experience. A drop of time is all we have and I’ve spent the better part of it doing chores I do not want to do. Serving masters that are not what I want but what I’m told I need. Often times I’ll go into imagination land and dream up a scenario that I’m dying. I’ll attempt to feel all the emotions, all of the joys and all of the remorse. Usually I’m old in this scenario because a young death sucks thinking that way will only lead to group therapy sessions. Lately though, my dreary imaginary world has been me in my youth. I began to wonder why. The reason was simple, being old is not far off, dying is not far off. I’ll still feel youthful in my spirit yet my body will deceive me and decay into dusty dust, dust, dust. Very sad stuff. Wondering if I would look back on my life fondly is no longer an option I care to contemplate. I know these questions and thoughts are as old as basic human thought but they’ve been around for a reason. Accepting and fighting mortality is at the very nature of a balanced life and I feel as though the people who have the greatest grasp on this thought process also live the greatest lives.

Not that my work life has been some horrible Guantanamo Bay type of existence. It’s been fine. It’s been fair. It’s been decent. The mediocrity will lull you into a false sense of happiness and fulfillment. Insurance, 401K’s, weekends off, running water, and paid holidays are not much salve for a restless mind. I began to view them as cages. The worst of cages at that. Cages where you view the bars as privileges. It goes without saying that the items purchased with this middle class wealth only padded the cages and added decaying luxuries.

The most strenuous part of my desire to change my day to day life was deciding what the motherfuck to do. I don’t like very much and I have little to no passion. The question of how I’d spend my life if given any option in the whole wide world has always been a depressing one. I’m lazy, no motivations, no desires. Fame or fortune is of little interest. Working with my hands to create is laughable. I can’t make a straight line with a ruler, pencil and a fist full of Adderall. The laziness is my problem. Always has been. The devil on my shoulder has little interest in fucking the cute girl while in a monogamous relationship or stealing toilet paper from the office bathroom. No, my devil wants me to sit down. Sit the fuck down! Do nothing. I hate him. Unfortunately, the angel is too busy sleeping or jerking off to the cute girl to give me any help. Overall, I need new conscience representatives. I’ve put out an add in the Greensheet, wish me luck. It’s real difficult to talk yourself into making a change when the light your soul is reaching for is a half burnt out twinkle light leftover from a childhood Christmas. At times, the change seemed to be more bleak than my current situation. Total darkness. If all I’m gonna do is sit around, get fat and cynical than I should just stay put. What’s the old saying? Better to dance with the devil you know or some shit like that.

A pattern started to emerge, a flow of similar sentiments kept reaching me. I ignored them at first. People say dumb shit all the time. Filler for lack of imagination. I never viewed myself as a writer in any way shape or form. But that’s what people kept saying. “Be a writer. Are you a writer? You should write. You make me laugh. I check your Facebook page everyday to see what your crazy ass came up with. Seriously, write.” Since this was never my life goal,- What’s a life goal?-I didn’t know how to respond nor what to do. It felt amazing, making people laugh, helping them to go to places their minds won’t normally go, and maybe getting them to think about things in a nonconformist way. I’m no writer! No training. I don’t even have a a god damn G.E.D. I let these thoughts be the consensus. After all, a Facebook post is not a novel. What was I going to do? Write a book of Facebook posts? Fuck you. Thanks for the kind words but I’m a moron and you don’t know shit about shit. A funny thing happens when positive words get thrown at you. Over time you begin to believe them. Right or wrong, you believe them. I’ll write.

What I’ll write about is anyone’s guess. I have no plan.  I don’t plan any writing. Don’t know how. Maybe short stories, maybe romance novels for a new generation complete with details of modern lovemaking like Plan B and difficulty in achieving erections in the throws of porn addiction. I don’t know. What I do know is making people smile makes me happy. You could replace the word smile with squirm and I’d feel the same. I’ll mix the two and have success yet I’ll surely fail as well. I’m good with that. At least i tried.  I do not claim expertise or superiority. Quite the opposite actually, I claim an empty tank, and maybe my emptiness in ways of writing or literature in general will serve me.

The excitement of a new chapter has been delightful. The writing is only a small part of what I care to accomplish. Cris and I have plans to do comedic videos (sex tapes), a couple web pages (critical reviews of sex tapes) and any other type of creations we can come up with. Cris has been designing her clay creatures and I’m really excited for what she’s going to be able to do. We plan on learning to be more self sustaining by learning to can, grow food and butcher. So much life and so little time!

I shared this with all of you for two reasons. One- like it or not, y’all have helped form this plan, and for that I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Two- accountability, by laying out my plans I think it will add incentive to achieve at least a fraction of them. I’ll ask more from you down the road in regards to sharing our bologna or visiting our websites. I won’t spam to death and I’ll always appreciate any feedback. I’ll return the favor in any way I can. Wish me luck.

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3 thoughts on “Introduction to WTF

  1. Pingback: Floating Innards | kegnowhere

  2. I feel like we were split from the same cell, nucleus or whatever the correct term is. The way you described your job and the lifestyle that goes along with it, is the same way I feel. It’s alright, looks alright on paper but it doesn’t feel alright. It feels like I am going to waste my life if I stay there forever. Just like you said though, the alternative of the unknown does not burn so bright as I am also lazy, unmotivated and have no passions. If I had lions and tigers chasing me everyday then yes, I would be motivated but that is not the case. This post would make a good ‘about’ page. Keep writing!

    • First off, thank you for reading it. I really appreciate all feedback.
      And yes, we do sound very similar. I had a chance to read a small portion of your site last night and thought the same shit. I plan on reading more tonight.
      My lack of motivation has been the biggest pain in my ass since forever. This blog is a perfect example. I don’t write near as much as I should and it’s not like I don’t have time. I have no job and nothing else to do but if I’m not getting my ego stroked and told what a good puppy I am, than I’m useless. Not the mindset for an aspiring writer.I hate that term: Aspiring Writer. Whatever.
      The little life lesson I’ve learned, since being without a job, and living what most would consider an ideal life for a person wanting a massive change, is I suck. I read a really good piece on Cracked.com (the only humor page I read.) that said “pretend you have a gun to your head.” Basically, if you feel the constant presence of death, it kicks in a natural reaction to achieve. I’ve been trying that off & on since last night. I’m going to have a fucking heart attack.
      Thanks for the advice on the “about” page. I don’t have the foggiest clue on how to design a blog or making it presentable.

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