I have a few recently created but unfinished drafts for this blog sitting around in the cloud, and I can’t seem to bring myself to keep working on any of them. In a horrible twist of events, they are all about the same thing, the sources of and the effects of, my pain. Like just now, I wrote a solid 500 words before realizing that this is so fucking boring. All of my personal guilt and all of the rational insecurities that I harbor are just so ridiculously uninteresting to me now. In one of my last posts, I talked about attempting to have new hope for myself and rebooting the Robby Belief Program and whatever. All that is cool and I don’t blame him for saying that, but doing that shit is a lot harder than I thought it would be, AT FIRST. Against the advice of my peers, I don’t think affirmations are capable of working when there is more chaos than there is peace within oneself. Despite all of that, yeah no shit in the end I was going to develop positive thoughts again. I mean??? There was no other alternative I had already exhausted all of the pessimism available to me, “no where to go but up!” It takes time to heal from things because it takes time to stop caring about shit, and I’m a little tired of playing that gloomy role after all. I’m thinking about a REAL future now with REALISTIC applications for the things I’m REALLY decent at.
The Weeknd is making a Spring run this year which he’ll probably pair with a Fall tour. A month away from his sixth album(really his 8th), an idea appears in my mind. Uhhhhhh, the Weeknd might be my favorite artist of all time not named Dr***.
The third single from After Hours is its title track, clocking in around 6 minutes with a new distinct feel. I’m hearing the streets making Trilogy comparisons(absolutely not), “Oh he’s taking us back !!!!!” It’s unfortunate Abel can’t release a single in promotion of a new album without his fans going completely bonkers with a deluded nostalgia, trying to tweet an “experience” into existence(although I’ll gladly take Kiss Land comments). Weeknd might be number three for me.
The past 10 months have been a terrific time for music, especially for my own Spotify playlists, but admittedly, there hasn’t been much to overwhelmingly shake the ground of which my ears stand on. I’m still here patiently waiting for a massive shift in my preference. That’s what music does right? Isn’t that its job? To make me feel as if I’m in the ocean taking the waves without fear? I assert that I’d like to float somewhere else now.
What have I been watching? Good question, Man Seeking Woman. I’m paying for Netflix, Prime, Hulu and Disney Plus because I’m not yet done cleaning my metaphorical home. On Hulu is the show I mentioned in the other sentence, and it’s the most okay program that I have ever watched 2 & a 1/2 seasons of. Like every show in existence except Breaking Bad and Friends, Man Seeking Woman makes me feel extremely welcome as I get familiar with the characters and writing style but the start of a second season makes me rescind all emotions I created while watching the first. Josh has become a fucking pathetic cuck the second time around, and makes me skip AN ENTIRE EPISODE BECAUSE I JUST WANT TO SEE THE FINALE AND GET IT OVER WITH.
The ways we panic when we feel ourselves start to lose hope for something we had been rooting for….the things we do when we feel betrayed by an okay main character….that’s easily the worst part, Josh ain’t even the hero of my dreams and shit….he was already established as a fucking loser from day one but when he started acting like a trick for a girl like Rosa?? ROSA???? Smh, I had to do it. Lucy in season 3 is hot she has nice hair.
Now I guess it’s time to announce February’s Word of the Month!!
cutting
cut·ting | \ ˈkə-tiŋ \plural cuttings
Definition of cutting
(Entry 1 of 2)
1: something cut or cut off or out: such asa: a plant section originating from stem, leaf, or root and capable of developing into a new plantb: HARVEST
2: something made by cuttingespecially: RECORD sense 4
3: self-harm in which a person purposely cuts or scratches the skin
I spent three weeks bulking up while working out. I ate my 3000 calories a day, I worked out every other night, and I drank absolutely disgusting chocolate milk with whey protein. I remember a couple of years ago when I promised myself I would never get back above 200 pounds. I remember a couple of months ago when I turned my back on that promise because I’ve enjoyed some pretty nice GAINS.
But alas, the seasons change, the sun rises before 7 now. The hot-hot season is coming and I must apply some foresight. I’ve started squeezing the calories out of my daily diet, restricting myself to around 1700. However, unlike last time, my strategy has been altered immensely. Thanks to Nick & Joe Rogan, I get home from work and eat 4 beef patties. No bun, no toppings, no carbs(I still throw on cheese and sometimes mustard). Between meat and eggs, there is nothing else other than a rebuilt resolve, a transcendent willpower, the ultimate mental control over my body.
I went to Los Angeles last weekend and ate at least 4000 calories in cool-looking restaurants, plus downing a bottle of Jameson.
I was there to see Dijon perform. I traveled alone, but stood in the crowd around a couple people I got to know while waiting in line. Two okay dudes a little younger than me, I’ll shout out Vin and Yasir for the one time.
I won’t talk about the opening act because I’m not that kind of guy today. Here’s the important information you need to know:
-Dijon is like 5’9 with impeccable skin
-The show in it’s entirety was apparently 2.5 hours
-It felt like 45 minutes
-This was the second most comfortable I’ve felt a show behind DVSN
-I did not have an incredibly gratifying time, but I did have a pleasant experience
What is certain is that I do not belong in any county inside of California. What a stressful and fast-paced environment, crowded and mysterious, but in that annoying way where you don’t care because you know there isn’t a real answer to your questions. A type of attitude I used to shroud myself in, excess “character devices” I adopted for numerous immature reasons. This type of fake-essential hubris I now realize has held parts of me back leading to devastating shortcomings. The word of the chapter is Cutting.
I Hate The Real Me 