Basically my life right now:
5 am: Alarm goes off to get my fat ass to the gym.
5:10 am: Snooze.
5:30 am: snooze.
5:40 am: Thinks I snooze, actually turns off alarm
6:45 am: FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK. *hastily throws on some semi-clean clothing and rushes out the door*
7 am: Begins commute to NYC for work. Listens to depressing news radio about how Donald Trump could actually be president. Makes mental note to never stay at one of his hotels. Unless, obviously, I find a dope Groupon.
9 am - 5 pm: Works tirelessly and never checks cell phone, or social media, or takes too many personal breaks to wander aimlessly around the city. (sarcasm obviously. I do work hard as shit though. I"m just slightly a.d.d.))
6 pm: Contemplates the amazing work out I'm going to have. Plans out outfit.
7 pm: Passes liquor store on the way home.
10 pm: After 2 hours of binge watching Netflix original programming, finds self in front of fridge wearing a hoodie and socks eating gouda and drinking wine.
10:30 pm: writes blog instead of calling dude for random regretful sex, because, mature.
12 pm: passes out with unread messages and weird Tinder dudes sending photos of their abs. which, hey there, is always welcome.
Rinse. Repeat.
34 years old. 5'6, like, 150ish.
Life is pretty mundane right now. It's winter, so I'm basically Robb Stark guarding Winterfell and shit. Just lots of fur, and boots, and unnecessary hair growth.
Ok, the real reason for this blog is because it's been an actual year since my grandmother passed away. And I made a promise, a fucking year ago, to write my book. Just like the same promise I made the year before that, and the year before that....you get the picture.
So this blog is just to go ahead and begin. So, here goes.
My idea, (which I already know is pretty similar to High Fidelity, but I think it's going to be ok because I'm not British, or a man, or particularly smart so I think the voice will be totally different.)
SO anyhow, the concept is to track down all my past loves. Since, according to google, I'm a love (and possibly) sex addict. I didn't even know that was such thing. But, you know, the internet.
A huge majority of my time on this planet has been spent either looking for love, being in love, being heartbroken, or rebounding from a heartbreak, I figured now that I finally can just stand still and be alone, I can tell my story from an objective manner.
So I would track down, and meet up with all these "great" loves of my past.
And eventually, the book wouldn't be about the particular story (I think starting off with Sean getting kicked out of the abortion clinic for peeing in a trash can while I was in the back room recovering) but about the tracking down of the person.
So starting tomorrow, I'll begin at the place where I basically came alive. Parkchester, BX. Leland Avenue.
I'll be on the 6 train with my notebook and my Timbs. Just like it was 1999 again.
Stay tuned.
5 am: Alarm goes off to get my fat ass to the gym.
5:10 am: Snooze.
5:30 am: snooze.
5:40 am: Thinks I snooze, actually turns off alarm
6:45 am: FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK. *hastily throws on some semi-clean clothing and rushes out the door*
7 am: Begins commute to NYC for work. Listens to depressing news radio about how Donald Trump could actually be president. Makes mental note to never stay at one of his hotels. Unless, obviously, I find a dope Groupon.
9 am - 5 pm: Works tirelessly and never checks cell phone, or social media, or takes too many personal breaks to wander aimlessly around the city. (sarcasm obviously. I do work hard as shit though. I"m just slightly a.d.d.))
6 pm: Contemplates the amazing work out I'm going to have. Plans out outfit.
7 pm: Passes liquor store on the way home.
10 pm: After 2 hours of binge watching Netflix original programming, finds self in front of fridge wearing a hoodie and socks eating gouda and drinking wine.
10:30 pm: writes blog instead of calling dude for random regretful sex, because, mature.
12 pm: passes out with unread messages and weird Tinder dudes sending photos of their abs. which, hey there, is always welcome.
Rinse. Repeat.
34 years old. 5'6, like, 150ish.
Life is pretty mundane right now. It's winter, so I'm basically Robb Stark guarding Winterfell and shit. Just lots of fur, and boots, and unnecessary hair growth.
Ok, the real reason for this blog is because it's been an actual year since my grandmother passed away. And I made a promise, a fucking year ago, to write my book. Just like the same promise I made the year before that, and the year before that....you get the picture.
So this blog is just to go ahead and begin. So, here goes.
My idea, (which I already know is pretty similar to High Fidelity, but I think it's going to be ok because I'm not British, or a man, or particularly smart so I think the voice will be totally different.)
SO anyhow, the concept is to track down all my past loves. Since, according to google, I'm a love (and possibly) sex addict. I didn't even know that was such thing. But, you know, the internet.
A huge majority of my time on this planet has been spent either looking for love, being in love, being heartbroken, or rebounding from a heartbreak, I figured now that I finally can just stand still and be alone, I can tell my story from an objective manner.
So I would track down, and meet up with all these "great" loves of my past.
And eventually, the book wouldn't be about the particular story (I think starting off with Sean getting kicked out of the abortion clinic for peeing in a trash can while I was in the back room recovering) but about the tracking down of the person.
So starting tomorrow, I'll begin at the place where I basically came alive. Parkchester, BX. Leland Avenue.
I'll be on the 6 train with my notebook and my Timbs. Just like it was 1999 again.
Stay tuned.
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