I have to be honest, a lot of the stuff I want to write or basically sperg on the keys is vile, vulgar stuff; things I’d be embarrassed to put into anyone’s inbox, let alone those who’ve known me closely.
I’m sitting here thinking about girls. Good and bad, pretty and prettier, the only thing on my mind, almost all of the time. If I thought about anything else nearly half as much, I’d probably have even less to write about.
The Algerian Floridian was chastising me for my body count and frankly I felt good getting that kind of feedback.
I traveled through the midwest a lot this year, and spent time in towns nobody ever travels to, just travels from. In the midwest, all the girls are either descended from elves or look like anime. They’re so pretty. We rode rollercoasters together at Six Flags and went to the zoo.
And the people are so nice. I sat in the cafe with a Brazilian aviatress, and listened to two old ladies talk about Easter. It was a powerful ambience; I was so engrossed I couldn’t even finish my work. Ironically, everything there is cheap but the coffee was very expensive, something like $8 for a cold brew. But I like having a cold brew in the midwest.
One time, I went in to a different cafe and the cashier told me the previous person had paid for my coffee, just out of kindness and a desire to spread good feeling.
The streets are very clean there and everything is boring in a quaint, warm kind of way. I loved walking around on streets that felt like they weren’t meant for it. Everything was wide and spacious, and there are fast food restaurants everywhere. The ratio of fast food to other food was like 5 to 1. There was a cleanliness that felt natural and emanating from the people who lived there, unlike the manicured sterility you would find in a high-end metropolitan neighborhood.
I had spent the previous month working almost entirely in Beverly Hills, which, if you’ve never been, is hard to describe. I can’t say I’ve ever seen anywhere else like it, and certainly no other neighborhood in Los Angeles that I know of has quite the sort of sculpted, angular quality of those streets.
I was working a job in Beverly Hills and I was in great need of a cigarette, so I left the hotel and began to wander. But I had forgotten a lighter. It took me a good 20 minutes to find fire anywhere in those streets; I had to settle eventually for taking a matchbook from a restaurant bar. Resultantly, I was late in coming back and, combined with some further annoyance and conflict with a certain Fat Jew, I was eventually banned from working anymore at the Beverly Hills Hotel.
But I didn’t know that yet though when I returned. I finished the job with the Italian videographer, who told me that the hotel routinely hosted Saudi princes and let them get away with just about anything (hookers). So I was okay with getting banned. He also couldn’t stop talking about Jersey Mike’s, which I ended up trying in the St. Louis airport, and I have to say, is nothing special.
Actually I went back there to the Beverly Hills Hotel just a few weeks later for the Ryan Garcia and Gervonte Davis boxing match, but thankfully nobody called that Fucker.
My midwestern fantasy was fleeting and nice. Still, I feel as though I’m playing some kind of bizarre satanic, psychosexual World of Warcraft, grinding through level-tiered zones in different weirdo locations; Forest of Faggotry and Dumbfuck Lake. Wielding my sword of Phallus and isekai-ing myself into libidinal flagellation.
I decided recently that I have to make decisions when it comes to women; I can’t say what they are just yet, but I’m planning on doing something about it.
Still, it feels good to have space for reflection, and time to look forward to. I am, for the most part, unburdened and driven by great purpose. It’s just a shame that, in combination with that always is a great drive towards self-destruction. Not that women are the cause of that, but just the manifestation it takes for me. I would lose everything I have and more, so easily, for a girl. I almost did this year.
Though, to be honest, nothing feels better than that.