I just watched a YouTube video of Stevie Nicks talking about all the cocaine she used to snort. It triggered me to go into my drawer of drugs and crush some MDMA. I hate snorting it but if I take it orally I have to wait to get high and the effects are longer. Plus the next day is a drag.
Once I snorted it I remembered why I hardly ever do it. IT HURTS. Also, I have this worry in the back of my head that one day I’ll have a hole up in my nose. The other option is to call someone to deliver some cocaine to me which I’ve never done because I believe once I pay for it I’m crossing a line.
The other day I sat with my friend in his automobile who delivers party drugs to people. Man, you would have no idea who is snorting cocaine and who is not just by looking at them.
“That guy has a wife and kids?”
To give you an idea what kind of drug user I am, the MDMA I just took was from a small batch my friend gave me in 2013. So ya, I’m quite controlled.
Blogging has taken a backseat to, ummm, nothing really. It’s not that I’m too busy. I haven’t figured out why I haven’t been writing. I want to I just don’t feel the strong desire to pound out my thoughts. I think money has made me soft.
All I think about is the stock market which might be a good thing. Finally, there’s something I’m deeply interested in that can generate lots of money. More than a few years ago I unknowingly started on a path that was training me to be proficient in investing in stocks. I became obsessed with the truth, critical thinking and being rational My emotions are no longer in the driver’s seat of my actions. Making money in the stock market is simple but not easy. I have a fitting temperament for it.
Tomorrow is a holiday. In my past life as a miserable working stiff I used to worship these days. Vacations were God and statutory holidays were the son of God. Now I hate holidays and weekends because it means the markets are closed — a complete 180.
When you’re a kid you would never think you could grow up to be someone who fears having a hole up their nose.
The other day I was walking by the lottery ticket booth at the supermarket when someone caught my eye. I did a double take at who I thought to be an old high school friend. I’m mostly certain it was him. We locked eyes at one point and as he looked away I got the sense that he felt ashamed.
To keep some degree of confidentiality we’ll call this old friend, Fuckface, or maybe we’ll just call him Dave. We met when we were 13 years old the same way many losers meet. Our commonality was skipping school. Sooner or later you’re going to end up meeting other hooky players.
Dave was kind of messed in the head. One day he would be more than glad to buy you a free meal and the next day he would try to start a fight with you. After high school which I doubt he completed, the rumour was that he was on heroin. It may have just been a rumour. People like to propagate a fake interesting story than a boring one.
If I had to guess he’s not presently on heroin. If I had to guess he still has at least a slight gambling problem. If I had to guess he recognized me but may have been too ashamed to talk about his life with me. Why didn’t I try to talk to him? I don’t know. It was one of those split second decisions. I was walking so I just kept walking.
As I arrive there’s 4 teenagers leaving piano class. I’m about 25 years older than them and they’re about 8 years ahead of me in piano if I study as hard as they have so they’re probably more like 20 years ahead of me. If they achieve nothing else in life for the next 25 years they would still be more accomplished in life than I am today. When time moves forward but your skills stay the same the best case scenario is that you might become a wise loser.
Tina is a good looking 13-year-old Asian girl who also takes ballet. Her parents pick her up in a new BMW. For her to lose to me in life she would need to get a crystal meth addiction and get pregnant by some guy like me. She’d probably still find a way to pull through. More likely though, she’ll graduate from university and marry a doctor or at least some guy with a boring, stable career. She’ll have kids and scare them into studying hard or else they might end up like that guy(me). That guy will try to get her daughter addicted to meth and get her pregnant.
For some people, maybe myself included, doing nothing for your first 30 years of life might be recommended. Guys like me usually screw up really badly somewhere between the ages of 16 and 30, so badly that there’s no recovering. How can thee screw up? Let me count the ways. Many guys I know have either received criminal records, death, drug addiction or deep financial debt. Some others who I know think they are successful but in reality they may have handcuffed themselves to imminent failure. In some circles the one who doesn’t screw up is considered successful.
A few years ago there was a blogger who fake liked enormous amounts of blog posts including mine. She garnered a big following and decided one day that it might be a good idea to write a post trying to solicit money using GoFundMe to help pay for her master’s degree. She ended up deleting the post and was never heard from again.
I’ve been liquidating the risk from my pension investment portfolio so that I won’t have to lie in the future to gently steal funds from you good people. I also call this portfolio my ‘anti-suicide fund.’ The rules indicate that I cannot withdraw any money from this fund until I’m 55 years old. If I know I have a significant amount of money waiting for me then it greatly reduces the chances of me enacting the dark version of Freedom 55.
There comes a certain age when a person feels they are too old to start over but also too young to make it to retirement. This can be a partial reason why it’s strongly advised to not quit your job after a certain age. Throwing caution to the wind can sometimes leave you in the eye of a shit hurricane.
In the year 2009 I went to the local big-box supermarket to buy a can opener. The only one that they had was more money than I wanted to pay but it was the only one in stock. The urgent necessity of a can opener trumped my penchant for being cheap. Some months or years later I discovered it was ‘Made in USA.’ I thought that was cool and it strengthened my liking for it.
I can’t find that thing now! Even worse, it can’t be found anywhere now because in 2008 they moved operations to China just before I bought mine which means I likely bought one from the last Made in USA batch. C’mon Donald Trump, bring back the can opener jobs.
Whether or not the ones made in China are much worse or not is uncertain but people have a liking for products made in a developed country. It makes them feel good even if the product is of poor quality. There was a used Made in USA Swing-a-way listed on Craigslist 2 days ago for $5 and now it’s gone. Somewhere out there is someone just like me which means I have competition.
When I was a kid we had 2 can openers. One was electric and the other was some manual piece of shit that barely got the job done. The electric worked fine but they take up space and unless if you have arthritis or are opening multiple cans a day it’s not worth it. Everywhere I lived after that were homes with crappy can openers. Poor immigrants tend to have this mentality of not spending any money for something they already have that kind of works. No one in the home ever thought how the can opener sucks and you can just buy a new one for $10.
There’s a spinoff Made in USA can opener which cannot be found here in Canada but is available through Amazon. There’s been rumours of counterfeits but the seller has me checkmated. I ordered one so we’ll see how it goes.
“The John J. Steuby Company made parts for the Swing-A-Way, and when Swing-A-Way was sold, the company started creating its own can openers: the EZ-Duz-It…”
Luckily, my obsessions tend to be inexpensive.
My throat has the beginnings of a virus forming. You know, it starts off with a little itch and progressively gets worse every couple of hours. Last night after using the vaporizer for my marijuana therapy my throat was dry but I didn’t get that glass of water that I knew I should have. Oh it will be okay. That type of thinking almost always leads to something not being okay. ‘It’s okay’ is what you tell yourself for short term comfort knowing very well it’s not okay.
Today’s piano lesson was shit. I had 3 weeks off and I now I’m worse. My punishment is $37.50 for the exact same lesson I had 3 weeks ago because I haven’t progressed enough. Charging for piano lessons is like selling gym memberships. After a while people won’t try as hard but will continue to pay the same amount. A good business is one that caters to people’s best intentions then locks them in and has their clients falter like they were statistically going to since recorded history. People are degenerate gamblers in some form. They think they are special and will beat the odds.
Here I am at the cafe to redeem myself by reading a book. Three Asian students sitting separately all have complicated looking mathematical equations in front of them and graphs that are displaying something. Maybe the inverse relation of gravity minus pythagoras multiplied by the square root of the speed of light. Anyone spending their Sunday engaged in such an activity is desperately working towards not being a loser.
To be an Asian in a developed country without a university degree is appalling. You don’t bullshit well enough and aren’t tall enough to get by in life by slacking off. You’ll be first in line to be culled by artificial intelligence.
If I had a job to go to tomorrow I’d be excited at the prospect of being genuinely sick so that I could call in sick without the guilt. Certain feelings will hold you back in life. Guilt has been one of them for me. Fake it until you make it and then for good measure keep faking it. People are usually too polite to call you out on your bullshit.
My degenerate gambler friend is at negative $400. My free entertainment is watching him lose. He just swore to give up gambling. You nkoe how that goes.
A multitude of white cougars came out of a show tonight, “The Thunder from Down Under.” I think it’s a show with Australians stripping.
Two young white girls waved at us which means they’re basically hookers looking for free drinks, cocaine and possibly sex for money. We didn’t bite. If they tried a little harder it may have been a different story.
I’m pretty intoxicated. Hangover is likely tomorrow. Promise people bad odds and they’ll cater to you in exchange for entertainment. We live for entertainment. Netflix, dining out, YouTube, Donald Trump. GIVE ME MORE.
5 minute post at the casino. Thank you. Thank you very much.