Cheese Daymare.

Allow me to preface by saying that, in jamming out this meaty and delicious post, I've realized that if a tree falls in the woods and no one's around to hear it but someone the tree works with might be around to hear about it falling later, it's still not allowed to fall in any manner that someone might find offensive or inappropriate. The tree's hands are tied. Or branches. Whatever. Fuck.

Alright. Moving on. So I guess I started a new job. That happened. It's been a very long time since I was stuck in a room with 15 strangers and been restricted by code of conduct from saying exactly what's on my mind at any given moment.

(This one time I did get locked inside my local with a bunch of strangers on luau night, which was cool until someone spiked the punch, then we all thought we were trapped on a desert island in an episodic freakout. There was a fat guy, some dude who used to be in a band, a guy in a wheelchair, and a hot chick. Some others too. We saw a polar bear, then more strangers, then some numbers, and season after season more confusing and weird shit happened and we never got any fucking anwers. But you don't want to hear about that, it's really not a very good story.)

Let me tell you, this self filtering thing is difficult. I've signed a contract that specifically states that three quarters of what I'm thinking at any time is illegal on some level, so you can probably tell what I worry about.

That's right, if any of them can read minds, I'm totally fucked.

Credit where it's due, my female is pretty sharp. She cut right to the heart of the problem before I had even started: "You have to play the game," She said, "You can't just rebel against everything." The first thing I thought was "Forget you woman, I do what I want." But just as I opened my mouth to tell her to go make me a sandwich I ticked over from denial to acceptance. damn those steps. So I'm behaving myself, but I also have no sandwich, This is some bullshit right here.

It's not all bad of course, I have this totally sweet security swipe card that operates doors from the future. I'm pretty excited about that. Also, ever had a cheese nightmare? No? Eat a whole block of cheese, right? Okay now go to sleep... Now that you're back, you probably know what I'm talking about. Good. Well I had a cheese sandwich on Thursday in my lunch break, then fell asleep briefly on one of the couches. Cheese daymare.

FREAKOUT!

Wait a second. Just wait one god damn fucking second.

Some chick just walked in the door and told me that she's moving nto the spare room. Her name is Alex. I've never seen this girl before in my life, how did this slip by me? I'll be back once I figure out what's going on.

Okay I'm back. She doesn't seem crazy. She listens to Deez Nuts? I don't know who they are,

FREAKOUT OVER.

What was I saying? Future doors. Cheese daymare. (Not really good, but certainly entertaining.) I've lost my train of thought. There was another thing.

Oh, they pay me.

Motherfucking bear tongues.

I know I haven't written anything in a while, but I think that's okay, because people don't read this. If this was a supply and demand situation? Let's just say I wouldn't be selling a lot of shoes.

Alright, so there's this swirling maelstrom of energy outside your house everyday. Sometimes it's inside your house. Basically it's everywhere, OK? Go take a look out your window and you'll see it. But you can't see it. It's invisible. You know where this nexus of energies isn't though? With me. Because it's the internet and I don't fucking have it. This means if I want to know what's happening in the world and I don't want to wait for facebook's little iPhone load wheel bullshit to decide my fate I have to go out, you know, there. Being out there isn't so bad. Sometimes there's ice cream. Sometimes there fucking isn't though, and this is really what I want to talk about: the times when there is no fucking ice cream.

I recently had to go get my passport replaced. (Like yesterday, or today as I'm writing this, or some other time entirely if you're not reading this today or tomorrow. Whatever. I don't even care.) That's not really how this story starts, but you'll get it as I decide to give it. I kinda like you though, so just for you I'll rewind a little...

I start a new job on Monday and they want me to do a million things before I start, like prove I'm a citizen, get a background check, turn my head and cough. The works. Some of you would know from previous posts I never wrote that I don't have my passport. I lost it. A citizenship certificate is needed to get a new passport, but I lost that too. Don't think about that, that's not important, what is important is that I have devised a sinister ritual that will summon to me a new passport in time for me to complete the compulsory background check. I began, with fervor, to gather reagents.

I promise this story will make sense.

You know when you're playing a game and you see some chick, and you're all "I'll be damned if I'm not going to talk to that chick," And she tells you that you need to go halfway across the world for some bullshit thing?

Whatever man, women are like that.

She'll say "I shall make for you the finest of magical hats, but first you must bring me the livers from 20 jungle cats." And you'll be all "I fucking need me some magical hat." You don't know what it does and it doesn't matter. You want the magical hat. You want it real bad. So you go to some distant place and you start mercilessly slaughtering jungle cats. You're going to town on these cats. It takes you hours but eventually you have the 20 jungle cat livers. You're pretty excited now, so you go back and give her the livers.

But then the bitch is all "I will also require the tongues from 30 rabid bears."

Wait, what? The bears are right near the jungle cats and you could have done them in one trip, but that's not how this is going down. You begrudgingly make the trek again, and begin to massacre some fucking bears, for some reason some of them don't even have tongues, so this is going to take a while. You keep your spirits up by thinking about all the awesome places you'll be able to wear your new hat, and how it's impolite to wear hats inside restaurants, so you think you'll maybe just stop going to them. You have your bear tongues and probably rabies and you make your way back to town.

"Sweet," She says, "All that is left is for you to bring me a single unicorn's eyelash, encased in a crystal bottle of orphan tears. Then we're done."

You think that when you're done, you'll kill her.

It doesn't matter that unicorns are really fucking hard to find. You find one. Or that orphans are remarkably spry. You catch one and punch him square in the face. Kid is crying everywhere. You bottle that shit up and take off back to town, practically feeling the plush insides of the hat soothing your weary head.

Then right as you're about to hand it over some dude walks up, snatches the bottle and kills the girl right in front of you.









Yeah, that's a lot like trying to get a passport.

Foreword.

I want to start this off by being frank and simple and honest. I'm writing this purely for selfish reasons. I don't care if anyone reads this, I don't care if no one reads this.

(It occurs to me that this last point may be put in contention by arguing that a man caring not if he has no readers would not then link this journal to the internet, to which I would reply that any feedback and observations are still welcome and wanted, after a fashion, because I am both the person I perceive myself to be and the person others perceive me to be, and I believe the two are different. I don't believe that looking back this will be an accurate portrayal of myself at this time unless those around me were assisting to shape my thoughts and beliefs on the subjects and moments herein. Were I to get no responses, however, I don't believe entries would stop, because the original purpose of this endeavor is a selfish one, and that is simply to untangle the strings in my head, to ease my own mind, and to maybe understand myself a little better. Whether no one reads or a million read, the aim stays the same.)

Well, OK. Maybe not simple.