A travel journal of me going nowhere

Day 1

Deliriously tired and stoned. Okay, I get the value of free time now. The treasure of resting. Reclining, relaxing, and sleeping. I fantasize about a deep, restorative sleep that wipes away the stains of segmented working time. A life without clocks and jobs, industry and growth.

No mechanistic movement, no drilled in focus boring my brain. Not repeating tasks while standing, then moving to a different spot and standing there. Repeating a few more tasks and then moving back to the first spot again. Standing in the original spot and repeating the same basic tasks again and again. People standing in line staring at you, the enigma of their desires radiating white hot and blinding.

Do they want me to move faster, are they impatient, am I attractive or disgusting, are they interested or bored, are they present and collecting glimmering, ephemeral details for the evocative poems they will write later to post on anonymous blogs?

How long do we make people do this?

It’s been 14 minutes so far but it feels like the life cycle of a star. Migratory species have traveled thousands of miles across the earth, returning to their ancestral breeding grounds for a once in a lifetime fuckfest. Inbred dynasties of mutant fish people have peaked and declined in the lived, felt time of your life as you hand out 4000 daily muffins and squirt scalding liquid into paper cups and ceramic mugs. 14 real minutes have passed. If there’s a hell they tell time there. Knowing where you are in time is torture.

It’s been 17 minutes since the fire beatles started gnawing on your nutsack. You’ve got another six hours of that. Followed by a three day long swim in a river of satan’s diarrhea. 

Seconds slip, minutes tick, hours drag, and days die. Time is nothing subtracting itself. When you watch sci fi movies and there’s always a scene where someone on a spaceship accidentally breaks a window or an escape hatch opens, and it creates this sucking power, a gravitational pull. And people cling desperately to whatever is solid enough to resist the consuming void.

That’s what being in time is like. Always on the edge of getting sucked out of the ship, dick first into eternal nothingness.

To forget about the earth vomiting us into the void, we work. So I get it. I like to work because it makes me feel useful, and feeling useful is another good strategy for suppressing dread over annihilating time.

But I also like to think and write and sleep. And be with friends and loved ones. For the past three days I’ve been trying to write about new netflix comedy specials I’ve watched. I end up scrapping everything because I feel dumb for taking comedy that seriously. This is a critical piece on comedy as an expression of the zeitgeist. We don’t just turn to comedians for laughs, but also for insight and perspective. Let me tell you what this means. 

What the hell is wrong with me? I’m way too tired for this.

Day 2

Hungover. From a single glass of wine. Slept five hours even though I didn’t have to wake up. My body has adjusted to sleep deprivation and is ready to run without rest. But everything feels off. I can function but there has to be an underlying, creeping illness or condition waiting to destroy me.

Why is my left hand tingling. Am I having a heart attack or do I have diabetes. I pee frequently. Is that diabetes or a malfunctioning bladder? A swollen prostate or just drinking coffee all day long. Chicken broth piss bubbling in the toilet bowl 19 times a day. Wait, is foamy urine a sign of kidney failure or just the reaction of a high velocity stream hitting a still surface of water from a distance?

It has to be too much caffeine, not enough sleep and bad diet. High stress and low fulfillment. Or kidney failure, heart disease, and rectal cancer. How do I still have a headache from a single glass of wine that didn’t get me drunk. How am I paying for something I didn’t enjoy?

It’s Sunday morning and my room is freezing. I’m shaky and my eyes feels strained, trying to smoke my headache away. It helps but I still feel like a broken down idiot. One glass of wine last night and I’m sitting in my darkened room shivering under the blankets like I’m withdrawing from heroin. 30 years old and major, systemic organ failure on the horizon.

Remember it’s the lifestyle, the heartrending stress and anxiety. Keep up hope, you can change all of this.

Feels good to be back

Went back to an old job. Cafe on 14th street, downtown DC. It was busy when I worked there before and now it’s even more hectic. Swarming with gays. Three fourths of the staff and almost all of the customers are flaming. I’m the last straight male alive, the hetero omega man.

The capital of the empire is Sodom. A pulsating hive of perversion. Vain status jockeys chasing cheap tingles while the world burns. Where dull conformity mingles with fringe flamboyance. Government drones carry out corporate commands and gluttonously consume the faddish food products of underpaid alien labor.

How do people have this kind of money. How do they drop forty bucks on breakfast every day. And what is a latte and how could a self respecting adult male drink not one but two in a single sitting. In a two hour span they drink 20z of hot milk and espresso. Then it’s toast and cocktails. All before 2 in the afternoon when they leave for the next decadent dollar hole.

There’s an actual bathhouse down the street that calls itself a male health club. If that den of disease and self abuse is a health club then I’m a Rhodes scholar. We all practice the art of self deception but the gay talent for it is unparalleled. Their entire life is a fabulous, glittering lie and now we all have to pretend to believe it.

But I’m being harsh. This is what happens when you overpopulate the earth and stack too many people on top of each other. This is what happens when technology advances too quickly and upsets the delicate social order. It’s not their fault. The actions of individuals are important but there are larger forces at work here.

We’re all sick with excess and lack. Broken by the clash of glut and want. Living in a time when satiety masks genuine need. When compassion is more important than ever but overcrowding and competition choke the life out of it.

Racism and homophobia returning with a vengeance. Misogyny and hate sweeping the nation. It’s the current year so why are we still fighting ignorance and intolerance?

We aren’t built to live like this. I don’t have the model for perfect happiness and health but this isn’t it. Resentful, incompatible people tossed together, stuck to screens feeding them an endless stream of death, degeneracy and sneering contempt for others. Equality is the stated aim but domination and submission is the poorly kept secret dream.

If it’s not bubbling rage for the rival outsiders taking the jobs or stealing the women then it’s vapid self improvement. You can escape from the strains and chains of group politics by obsessing over your fleeting feelings. Have you accepted yourself and do you feel successful? Maybe you don’t make enough money or feel fulfilled by your work or relationships.

Your wants and needs at the center. You’ve hurt yourself by putting others first, so those days are over. When other people disappoint you it’s okay to manipulate and exploit them. Now we’ll give you every system and trick and hack for turning your life around and climbing to the top. Articles, books, podcasts, and seminars about finally at this moment taking control and living out the fantasies you’ve denied yourself.

Opaque dependency weakens personality. Degraded, shrunken selves become megalomaniacal and narcissistic to compensate. Fragile worldwide systems of exchange sever the bonds of social life that nurture character and guide the maturation process. Stable roles are rejected; reinvention and relocation devolve from luxuries into abject necessities.

Directionless, insecure people loathe authority even as they clamor for more control over the lives of others. They unwittingly support impersonal mechanisms of control and surveillance, all the while flexing their pseudo subversive vanity muscles and endlessly rehashing stale critiques of power.

At least I have two jobs and a privileged identity I should be undermining at every opportunity.