Don’t feel like writing
But I’ll write you a haiku
Back to bed I go
Don’t feel like writing
But I’ll write you a haiku
Back to bed I go
I know what I want to write about, but I won’t, out of respect and matters of privacy. Maybe it’s not respect, maybe it’s self-preservation. I know it’s private but if I don’t write about it, it’ll nag at me and if it nags at me then it won’t work. I wouldn’t want it to work. No one likes a nag- no two, either. I don’t like being vague but it’s private. Maybe a lack of privacy lead to the nagging. Maybe the lack of privacy felt like there was no respect. I care about privacy but then I don’t, so maybe I do? I’m being vague-ish. I wouldn’t want to spoil the pumpkin for Halloween night by carving it too early in October. The fuck? The analogy actually makes sense but it’s just so obscure and not even the season right now. Vague-ish.
Random iPhone thoughts today:
“Sometimes you have to save face before it gets thrown in yours.” -No context, not sure where my brain pulled that from
“We can’t invalidate ignorant people.” Started thinking about that Netflix doc “Behind the Curve” again and wanted to force myself to remember that those people (flat-earthers) are just questioning things because of what may have happened to them in the past and that there was a time when I didn’t know things. Sure, some are people who refute all evidence and deep down you know that they know the earth isn’t flat but at the end of the day they have a community of people that accepts them. I know I’m not breaking any new ground here but that’s all people really want…is to be accepted. What I’m saying is, hug a potential flat-earther. Accept people or they’ll end up being flat-earthers.
Distraction is everywhere and it takes many forms. Distraction is so sneaky that it can hide in the things you do that make you feel productive. Distraction feels good now but is stored like fat for future anxious energy. Distraction smells like the healing of the nation and tastes like Jumbo Hostess Iced Honey Buns. Distraction feels like a warm, wet tug, in front of a bright screen in a very dark room. Distraction is one more episode. Distraction is hoping he or she will change. Distraction is writing about life instead of living it. Distraction is writing a blog? Distraction is reading a blog about how a guy questions whether or not writing the blog is a distraction. “Diss”-“Traction” (say it in your best open mic poet cadence). Distraction shouldn’t be a one way street. Distract me for a little while. Distract anyone, as the more distraction you create, the more your worth. Distraction is a trillion dollar industry. Distraction would be googling that last sentence. I’ve got one minute left. Sorry this is a short post. I got distracted today.
I was at the barber shop a few weeks ago and remember a dad with his out of control son. The dad was in his early thirties and the son was barely walking confidently. The son was cute at first but then you could tell the dad started to get embarrassed and impatient as he sat to get a cut. The little guy didn’t give one shit and at one point neither did the dad as he let the freshly faded fucktard run all over the shop while he was scrolling through some sort of timeline (most likely Instagram). I smirked until I realized a potentially depressing twist…this is a weekend dad. I know I want kids but I’m scared I’ll turn in to one of these. Now obviously I don’t know this dude, he could be the best dad in the world but on this particular Saturday, he was over it- this time was about him…forget everyone else trying to have a relaxing wait in the barber shop. OR, he could be the same dude I worry about becoming. We all know people who do the big life things like get married, have kids, buy a house, and settle down just because they think that’s the next obvious step, with little to no thought as to what else they could get out of life. Don’t get me wrong, some people’s natural progression in life is to do those things but I think a lot of people force it. These are the same people who hit up every happy hour during the week and use the weekends as offspring photo opps for their social media timelines. Moral of the post today is: don’t force it. I’m about to run out of time so that’s it. Sorry if you think calling that kid fucktard was a little harsh but you guys weren’t there.
No, I didn’t forget about ya. I’m here, I’m here. I set an alarm to remind myself to keep plugging away at this stupid, self imposed daily blog assignment on this 4/20 holiday. I support the holiday but I don’t celebrate this holiday publicly. I’m at the point in my life where if you don’t know I smoke weed, I don’t want you to. I don’t really know what that means but if you think about it, it’s pretty freaking deep bro. Maybe not. Today I’ve had a quarter pan of salted caramel brownies, two oatmeal cream pies, a star crunch, an entire pack of Trolli worms and an entire bag of cheddar Chex mix. Don’t judge, I did hot yoga for the first time this morning…I deserve it. Speaking of, I learned today that any time I hear someone non-ironically use the word “Namaste” during the course of a normal conversation it makes be smile uncontrollably, so maybe it does work? I don’t have a favorite pose but I did enjoy hearing people breathe for an hour. It honestly felt amazing but I feel like I have to shit on it a little to keep my edge. Why are all white people Saturday morning recreational activities so expensive though? Â Also, why isn’t Yoga used as therapy the same way psychologists and psychiatrists are? Like why can’t my insurance pay for Yoga as a mental health service? Why doesn’t insurance cover all hobbies that preoccupy you and promote growth as a mental health service? Am I only asking questions to fill my word limit because I only have ten minutes left to write this? Maybe. Should you try Yoga? Maybe.
I don’t really feel like writing today, so here are some one-liners I’ve put together over the last few weeks. You can only steal them if you say them on stage.
-The word “quench” makes me thirsty.
– I think flat-earthers are just trying to get a free trip to space.
-There should be a three drink MAXIMUM.
-Fuck cancer? You might not have cancer if you were a little nicer.
-Lesbians have the best weed (not a joke, just a fact).
-Boxed water should taste like pussy.
-Why aren’t there wallet chains for your phone?
-Struggle is like chickenpox, the earlier you get it the better. (idunno)
-I’d rather buy tampons than WhiteClaws.
-I bet the hardest part about dating Ariana Grande (for Pete Davidson) was having to pretend her music was good.
– Saw a post from a girl holding a bridesmaid coffee mug with the caption “No Greater Honor”…how many pats on the back do women want?
-You can usually tell one’s race by how long their hashtags are.
-I’ve never really gotten a backhanded compliment…they all feel like fore-handed “Fuck Yous”, to me.
-I will NEVER speak in absolutes EVER again.
-All dogs are rescues, if you think about it.
-Ultimatums are threats with longer timelines.
-I once tried to kill my sister’s cat with allergy medicine.
-High heels are just portable squatty potties.
-Long, drawn out sex is a lie developed by Big Porn.
-*eats Non-GMO* …. *smokes California weed*….
-If there were no refs in MMA, would the guy who knocked the other guy out just keep going?! Sheesh.
These are bad, I know.