[983] Good Debt

I’m mildly annoyed and been mildly anxious all fucking day and I want to know why.

Fucking Scampi’s on an adventure, so, like any caregiver to something alive I get to imagine he’s dead until he’s home again. Icing. (He arrives the moment I get done writing.)

I ordered a ton of stuff again. I kept doing the math and thinking to myself “Why not now?” So much of my hang-ups towards progress or enjoyment are about, “I don’t need that” or, “Not yet.” You know before I ordered any sizeable or useful amount from Amazon, I had things sitting in my cart for 5 years? There is absolutely no good reason I can’t keep a job that requires less time than I spend doing literally anything else for 6 months. Especially if during that 6 months, I’ve run out of shit to buy, occupy my time with, or use as an excuse to not inch forward on a project. Also, if the house sells as it’s planned to, my cut makes me even again.

I’m annoyed that I want to keep enjoying and building my home, but I don’t think I can stay in the country. I’m annoyed that I still don’t believe a plurality of people will do anything to make “things” better. I’m annoyed that I’ve reached a certain “fat and happy” status, and all I am is still filled with rage that I can’t seem to enjoy it like I’d like because…you know, fucking fascism and impossible heat and dumb lonely drunk ugly people who want to fucking talk to me at concerts like I fucking came there to see them.

I’m fucking annoyed because today I watched an entire season of The Last Kingdom while sitting in an office, an hour and a half and $50 away, I had absolutely no reason to be in. I then capitalized on a crazy pizza deal and stuffed my fat fucking face with slice after slice trying to quell the emptiness and shake up my day of surfing the internet in work-computer-appropriate ways and getting pulled out of the moment when a battle-hardened Dane says “humping” instead of “fucking.”

I’ve been polishing up the land. The weed-whacking brought some psychological satisfaction. The overgrowth is intense, but a commercial weed-whacker reminds you it’s just some bitch ass grass and shit. I’m going to go around and collect all the random wood and get it stacked up and around the bricks tomorrow. I have one group at 11:00. One. Then supervision at 2:30. I’ll have to see if I can play a game of “look busy and answer emails” while sweating to death and organizing, cleaning up just enough for when I need to be on camera.

Barring disaster, by the end of the year, it dawned on me that I’ll have seen over 90% of my favorite bands live, and some more than once. What does that mean? The same will be said for comedians. Will our respective aura-exchanges speak to my karmic  destiny? Until this year, endlessly indulging in shows and splurging on the means of building and creating shit were all abstract concepts pertaining to my idealized self. Now, my idealized self wants reliable health care, a fucking planet that won’t chase me to Mars, and people to have ongoing active fights alongside with towards the achievement of meaningful ends.

I don’t play the lottery because I think I’ve already won it. If I had a large sum of money dropped in my lap, I’m immediately setting up places to live in the most stable countries. Then I’m forming my influence network towards achieving political ends and diversifying power. All the while continuing to go to shows in more exotic locales and from fancier booths, but with pit access. And I’m definitely getting a fancier pool and bowling lane.

I’m annoyed because I’ve watched people live with 5-10 times more debt than me, and get to just about now start their adult lives with new kids and stable housing. Do they still have student loans? I don’t know, but most people I’ve met have pretty well resolved themselves to never paying them back. It wasn’t “good debt.” It was a debt predicated on a naivety at best and lie at worst. I don’t feel my financial debt in the same way I feel like the pain of what my country was supposed to have promised me. I at least get something, as soon as Amazon drops it off, for the money I spend. I at least get to see myself move around my space and see it grow. It’s like cigarettes. Sure, I need health/car insurance, but what are they really getting me If I haven’t crashed or don’t feel sick? Not a fucking nicotine rush of a pool, I can tell you that much.

The next thing I genuinely have to look forward to is any time spent with “you.” I pretty much know how the concerts are gonna go. My favorite comedians I suspect aren’t going to struggle the nights I see them. I’m going to struggle through the salt in my eyes as I keep erecting walls and rooves in my little corner of the world. But, what are we gonna talk about? Who knows!? Me and Hussain debated faith and god by accident for 2 hours last night. Didn’t see that shit coming, and am still definitely over sky daddy talk, lol even if it’s nice to talk to someone who doesn’t actually act like a malignant religious person, and can hear, “You put your bitches in black sacks,” half a dozen times without getting angry.

Anyway, I’m less annoyed and anxious now. I might be able to finish Tiger & Bunny and get to sleep before 2.