For the past few weeks, I’ve been indisposed. Vacant. Available. Allotting my time to outlets that require more attention than my personal life. The problem is that I spend so much time alone that I rattle my own cage. I don’t have any close friends to speak of these things with. The wanderings of the mind are what caused this in the first place. The wanderings of the mind have led me back.

I had an STD scare a few weeks that lasted for a while. Even after tests, I was convinced something had happened. Turns out it was just some irritation due to my bathing suit and I’m just an idiot.

In addition to that, I’ve had time to reflect on my last few months mainly out of fear. I’ve kept people at arm’s length and pushed others out of an acceptable range. I’ve met a young lass at the job whom I get along with quite well. But I’m not sure if my attraction is due to lack of companionship or intrinsic value. With the waning of my friends and those I have funneling into acquaintances, I found myself going days without speaking to anyone other than a passing “hello” to those I live with.

I’ve always had a problem relating to others. I’m artsy, fitness-oriented, and I read a lot of stuff that other people don’t have any interest in. I don’t watch a lot of television, in fact I haven’t had cable in four years. It’s hard for me to find conversation topics that genuinely interest me. Not to say that I can’t rally and talk about almost anything; it’s just not always available.

I don’t want to present the impression that I don’t have friends. Given that my real friends live in the south; except for the den mother. She lives an hour away and after a few hours of conversation we tend to butt heads.

I realized today that I’m no longer thinking of my future. I’m barely thinking days ahead let alone weeks or months or years. I’m 17 again with no real plan for anything.

I’ve been trying to focus wholly on projects, thus my habit of pushing others away; particularly in the interest of romance. The other folks I push away are largely due to me being the only one who makes an effort. I suppose that’s the way most things. ‘What is it out or who is it and how does it benefit me?’ Maybe I’m too much a philosopher. Maybe I’m not enough of one.

Maybe I never had a real touch of companionship and thus my feigning fondness in the community. 

I haven’t the slightest clue what it is that I really want. I’m struggling with the duality of projects and people. I can’t find common ground for the two of them and thus I can’t settle on wholly on either task.

Women are a task.

Projects are a task.

Neither of which I seem to be capable of organizing and maintaining.

Perhaps everything would be better off without my interference. Perhaps this is a personal shift of tectonics. A shift of the earth to lead to a new landscape.

One of thing is for sure… There isn’t a fucking soul I’ve been able to talk about this with.

My dad is probably going to be dead in the next few months too. I’ve made an effort, probably a worthless one, to make amends with a dying man. I’ll wait to see what the future brings before I delve further into this thought.

“May you find what you’re looking for and recognize what you need for they are seldom the same.”
Immortal Iron Fist

Under recent pretenses I’ve realized that I’m pursuing a track that isn’t me. It’s fun. Boy is it fun! But it isn’t where I want to be in a few months.

My mind has been a wreck recently. From the job, the art show, the roommate ordeal, the distaste of particular readers… It’s all relative but I have other whoas that only effect me and I’m not going to detail my own accounts to myself.

Once I gained an audience, I started writing to impress my newly acquired fans. But that wasn’t what I wanted. I began thinking of ways to elegantly advertise my thoughts and actions, not that I don’t have a benevolent way with words, it just wasn’t what I need this blog for. The tenure for its need has abated and I evolved it into something less romantic and more real.

As such, I’m suspending my writings until I’ve adequately reflected on myself, friends, lifestyle, and come up with a better means to articulate my the jests of my life and those around me.

This is not because of a particular falling out. This is, as arrogantly driven as it always was, about me.

If you have any concerns follow me on Twitter or Instagram @champeyon

Thank you for your support. I’ll return someday.

I drank and spoke with my roommate tonight. He’s largely non-confrontational so the alcohol helped him open up. He called me out on what I already knew and I called him out one what caused this charade. No surprises there. Apparently, he spoke with the (in)convenient partner and she’s the primary suspect for being hurt over this blog. Which he took my side. So there’s one person who has an alternative perspective and I can’t get this person to talk to me to gain further understanding.

One of my absolute best friends, and probably the guy I would ask to be my best man if some woman wanted to marry me. The odds are probably in the negative for that. He and I go way back. He and I got into an argument about how bullshit philosophy is. According to him it’s people arguing duality to prove their own side. Basically, an understanding of a point to the point there isn’t any way around this person’s belief. I argued that philosophy is the study of understanding.

I’m hot-headed, impulsive, and somewhat arrogant. I won’t get into it too much, because defending these attributes is stupid. I want to learn. I was told by another friend from college that if anyone he knew would ever achieve enlightenment, it would be me.

It’s the best compliment anyone has ever said to me.

The romance of me is lost. It’s more like “hey baby, I have this art show in a few weeks and you’ll play second fiddle. Also, I play soccer on Saturday’s, to which you’ll also play second fiddle. Also, my dog is the light of my life. Also, I work out a lot. Also, I read a bunch. Also… Look your best shot is getting in around eighth on the list.?”

These are really powerful ideas.

The serial sex artist is damn near exclusively dating two women. Dating… Dating. I’m far less concerned with the number than the fact that he’s still involved in a certain level of debauchery and more concerned that he’s narrowed down his field to two candidates. Both of which could probably give him the exclusive talk and he’d go for it. He’s one conversation away from being locked down.

The multi-dater went from switching one seeds to dating, seriously, the new one seed. She’s really great. She’s probably more wild than he is; at least in a public scenario. I’ve no idea what transpires with them behind closed doors. Also, the only time I’ve seen the out together she was really inebriated. This isn’t an absolute statement, but every other time I’ve been around here it’s been basically in passing.

My life has changed from multiple women to a point where it’s funneling out the hogwash. I’m not sure if my romanticism has increased because the options are limited or because my tenure for debauchery has abated.

This is an instance where I don’t need to have things figured out.

I have an art show in a month-ish (I really have no idea when the date is; other than it’s September). The serial sex artist aligned me with a lass whom gave me information that’s privy to this instance. I met her Thursday, and I am wildly attracted to her. Wildly. She’s not a ten. But her attire in that evening sparked something in me that I rarely experience.

I’m an asshole. I know. You could present me 10,000 women and I’ll find something wrong with all of them. Not because I arrogantly perceive myself to be perfect, but because I’m really good at telling you how your most flaunted attributed is a turn off.

To quote the serial sex artist “I just got a number from a ten……… well………. you might not think so.” This is who I am; within two months of knowing me, my friends have made gests that my perspective of women his skewed.

Perhaps I leave room for the intellectual and emotional attributes to make their claim and don’t give anyone more than an 8-9 subconsciously to keep my bias at bay.

I love cute. Cute women do it more for me than outright gorgeous. Here’s why. You’re cute mannerisms, or freckles, or nose, or eyes, or chin, or cheeks will last with you until you’re 90. Your botox won’t. Your faked and faux attributes will die. This is why being “genuine” is so attractive. Because one day you aren’t going be a hot guy with six-pack abs and then what do you rely on when you’re divorced with two kids?

Speaking of which, I got hit on by the first woman that I’ve ever been outright hit before by last night. I’ve been hit out by women in a group situation. But, I’ve never had a woman come out of the blue and attack me. Last night I was out the multi-dater (now should be called the solo endeavor) and he and I had a great time.

For the record, I’m not changing anyone’s names. I don’t care if I married Tinder-girl… She’s going to always be Tinder-girl. It’s way too hard to change people’s names to suit someone than is to re-acclimate a group to learning a knew name.

The world around me is changing. I’m losing my romance for dating but regaining my romance for fantasy. It’s hard to explain and I won’t elaborate within the confides of this digital rendition of my life. I’m searching for quite a lot. I’m raring to go. I have plans. I have hopes. And I’m hoping that the game doesn’t tear me apart.

I was walking behind some guy who stopped every few steps to check out the women around him, or talk to his boyfriend… I’m not quite sure. Their relationship held up me passing through a door frame and I said, aggravated-ly, “excuse me.” to which in an opposite, arrogant, and overall in my face tone he replied “excuse me…”

He tried to eye me down for fight. I met his gaze with that of my own and replied “wouldn’t that be nice.” I passed by uninhibited.

This week has been absurd on so many levels.

I’ve had the convenient partner take such a distaste in the blog that she refuses to talk to me on any level. My roommate and I have had a conversation, two months too late. The multi-dater is seeded (Pokemon reference). The serial sex artist is engaged in polyamory. Which I always thought was multiple people all dating each other, not one guy “seriously” dating two women.

Let the hardships come. Champeyon has received enough down time from hurting, working, failing, etc. Let the next step require more of me.

I’ll never get better without it.

The knowledge of this blog among the usual suspects has spread pretty quickly. I’ve been pondering if I should keep going or not. It’s not like I outright say any names on here other than my own. Although, it’s not hard to figure out who is who if you know me personally. Though, I’ve had people not know any of this stuff when they are even out with us.

Part of the group doesn’t really care. Part of the group has some self-absorbed notion that anyone actually cares about you or cares about what I think given a particular instance. Another issue is that anyone who cares refuses to talk to me now so I don’t even have the opportunity to get a rational perspective. Not that I except that conversation with any of those who are upset to be a rational conversation. But having my philosophy background, I’m hopeful that I can gain alternative understanding to see something wrong.

Obviously, that sounds self-righteous as shit. Oh well. Present me with a valid counter argument other than “I just don’t like it.”

I finished two pieces for my art show in September, yesterday. Both are incredibly Maryland-y. I’m sure the locals will eat it up. I have one that I’m working on and a few of the other pieces require some illustrations so it’ll be time consuming. The submissions have to be made by the 20th of August. Hopefully, I can have them all printed and what not by the time the show starts. I’m pretty nervous about the whole thing. I’m putting a lot of hope and faith into this endeavor and failure is something I’ve all too familiar with. I’m kind of going into this with a pessimistic overtone rather than having expectations of grandeur.

I’m getting better at having a plan. Which, as the den mother can tell you, I never do. I never have a plan because I’m usually incredibly well prepared for things.  This won’t be any different. I’ll be prepared for this show and really be on my Ps and Qs for it. The rest is up in the air, I suppose.

The twists and turns of life are very unpredictable. Which is why I feel having a plan is so obsolete. Prepare for what you can’t plan for. Pack an extra pair of underwear in case you crap yourself. Keep condoms around. I’m not planning to get laid anytime soon, but having a pack of jimmies that are archaic isn’t good preparation for if that unlikely scenario heads my way.

I say this because I’ve largely removed myself from social interaction. Not because of this backlash my “friends” have had over this but because there is shit that requires my attention. In order to finish tasks that require my attention, I need to be less social. A struggle, I know. I had the thought yesterday after not having talked to another soul, as I laid down in an empty apartment about how much it felt like when I first moved up here. Except, then I was in the gym twice a day. Now I’m just working on projects.

I really need to stop drinking too. I need to clear my head.

My dad went into the hospital again last week for the same issue and no one in the family knew about it. I don’t understand why you’d go to the hospital and not feel the need to tell someone. “Hey, I might be dying, just wanted you to know so you could have the eulogy ready.” I think that’s pretty much the last straw for me. My dad has been such a negative shadow in my life for so long that I just don’t think I can extend a hand to a man who doesn’t even want people to know when he falls. Not very altruistic, I’m well aware. Maybe, I’m just overly emotional about the whole thing.

Which would be very uncharacteristic of me. As I said before, I’m losing my emotional interest and taking a logical, work-oriented drive to things. Which is why I’ve been less struggling with how to present myself and what I want out of things and more recanting recent events. I’ve largely figured out what I want out of most things and now I just need to make sure these plans come to fruition.

I’m super stressed. I feel like I haven’t had any rest at all in the last few days. When I’m not at the job, I’m working on things or in the gym. I need a break, but there isn’t one in sight.

“And I always catch mah break.”
Heath Huston – Fear Agent (By Rick Remender)


I’ve been reading a lot of reviews on Guardians of the Galaxy. Most of them talk about how terrible Thanos is a villain. He’s bad at it because his goal is to seek out the infinity gems and he has obtained zero in ten Marvel movies. I’m a huge fan of Thanos so I’m going to bad his corner.

First of all, the villains are supposed to lose. No matter how much you loved Heath Ledger as the Joker, he lost. Bane lost, Zod lost, Loki lost, the Red Skull lost. Thanos has had agents fail to do tasks for him. Ronin in GotG got the gem but refused to deliver it. He sent Loki to get the tessaract (which is a stupid name because it’s a technical term for a particular type of cube.)

When you get someone to perform a task and they fail, that’s not really on you. Also, now that the Collector’s space museum is blown up, and he had the Aether (From Thor 2) it should be easy pickings for Thanos (or a new agent) to come and get it. I also really hoped that the end of GotG would’ve featured something with the Kree empire (more than just Ronin being an extreme zealot) or the Shi’ar because I’d love to see Gladiator fuck something up in the future. Unfortunately, the Shi’ar Empire did more with the X-men and the Phoenix (Jean Grey) than they have with other space stuff.

Also, the Skrulls and the Badoon aren’t directly owned by Marvel since they are rebooting the Fantastic Four. Which means a new Galactus is pretty unlikely, which also sucks.

There are a lot of directions that Marvel could go with everything. Ant-Man will be fun, I’m sure. The only quarrel I have with it is that Hank Pym (Ant-Man) invented Ultron, but Ultron is going to be featured in a film before Ant-Man gets released. It’s kind of a big deal. Also, the Age of Ultron as a comic wasn’t stellar but there is a side issue of Spider-Man that is drawn by Dexter Soy, that issue’s artwork is spectacular!

I’m not trying to nit-pick too much, I realize that it’s looked at as “two separate universes” but still. Some things should travel on parallels. I’m sure Ant Man and Age of Ultron will be awesome, even if Quicksilver looks like a total dipshit in AoU. With all of the technology and minds we have working today, you’d think that giving a character a new look would make him look cooler, not like a roided out jogger. When have you ever seen someone who runs a lot look jacked like that? I’m sure the ladies will get moist panties over it, but it looks dumb.

Scarlet Witch looks bad too. But her attire in the comics was never any better.

Here’s some more stuff by Dexter Soy. He, Jerome Opena, Chris Bachalo, and Ivan Reis are some of my favorites in the comic world. You can look them up on your own, I’m not plugging all of what I’ve said today. Also, see an older post for backgrounds on some of the Guardians of the Galaxy stuff.

I’ve been writing in this for a few months now and kept things relatively secret to the larger consumer base. Only a handful of folks even know about this. A few of my consorts have discovered this and deemed that I’m “shit talking”.

I’d like everyone take a step back and think for a minute… How you perceive yourself is often different (sometimes radically) than the way others perceive you. Now me telling my rendition of a tale, often with a personal opinion attached, doesn’t create the whole of all parts. I do not spend 100% of my time either at the job or in the alcohol filled caves. I do other stuff. The people I’ve presented to you aren’t negative. I have a solid head on my shoulders (despite my fiscal irresponsibility) and align myself with like minds and like virtues. The overall problem that I’m encountering is that people view any outside account of their lives as negative. Which isn’t the case. First and foremost, a lot of what’s been said here I’ve said directly to these people or publicly questioned. Second, you’re getting half of an account for any given situation. My blog is written through my perception. Your self-righteous hogwash is as much yours as mine is mine. I’m not naive to believe myself some benevolent person. I’m trying to do good, but the reality is that I’m almost always the villain in any argument. This is one of the reasons why I have tattoo sleeve of super villains… to make fun of myself. I’m not a bad guy, nor do I consort with bad people. But among my consorts, I’m certainly not a treasured commodity. 

Apparently, I consort with those who don’t mind criticism and those who are outright offended by it. Now, I ask you, if I tell person A a tale of person B and person A then recounts the events (through my perspective) to person B, how is this any different? Because there’s a physical reference point to recollect. It’s not “he said she said” when you can refer to a particular instance. Well, here I can actually atone for my recantation rather than “nah, I didn’t say that.” I’m owning up to a lot here. And I’m happy to validate any and all perspectives that I’ve presented here.

After speaking with the serial sex artist today he advised to go with my gut. Truth be told, I don’t want to align myself with people who are so sensitive. However, some sensitive folks shouldn’t ostricized on account of my personal recollection of event(s). Honestly, I wish people would grow up and realize that the stage of life isn’t all about you, nor me, and you’re going to die one day, realistically having achieved absolutely nothing. Homo sapiens are expected to live for about 9000 years (I don’t have a reference for where I read this, but I did and if I find it, I’ll plug it in.) Also, I believe Gandhi said “whatever you do will be insignificant, but you must do it.” Meaning that living is important. I honestly won’t matter, like the life of a snail 9000 years ago, but you have to do it. Life is important. My recollection of events are arbitrary. I’m aware of that. I’m aware that nothing I do will matter. My uncle told me when I was a pup and got my little feelings hurt by a lady for the first time; he asked “in a hundred years will it matter?” Nope. This blog isn’t going to transcend time nor space, Although I’ve written about my life theory on here (time space and metaphysics). None of this is going to matter. My words to an anonymous audience are lost in the wind. A skewed prayer to a congregation that doesn’t exist.

I’m sorry you’re sour that my account of events is public. But the truth is, the folks in question from this I’ve heard harsh accounts of, and defended to other folks. Not that this is particularly kindhearted. 

I align myself with folks of similar virtues. So if they are bad, the I must be as well. I align myself with people who can do things that I can’t because I’ll need those skills. I align myself with people I love and care about. In order to get to them, well I’ll fight to my dying breathe to clarify any misconception about those around me. And if those breathes turn to fists, then so be it. 

This life is mine. If you don’t want to be a part of it, ask. But I’m not recounting events to satisfy some self-righteousness along the way. I’m doing it because I needed an outlet.

I’m going to die; so I ain’t taking any prisoners.

The job largely consumes my weekends. The weekends are my money makers. The weekends are my boobs. I went out Saturday with the usual suspects after a text from the serial sex artist asking what I was up to.

I’m honest as always. “At the job.” He inquires further about my nightly intentions. My intentions where to have a drink or two and be on my merry way to Dreamland. I had a drink with him at his place after work, where he informed me that the group lady-friend was upset because he’d hooked up with her friend the night before. He told me that in high school this girl (not the lady-friend) was above and beyond the hottest of the hot at his high school.

I’m not impressed. She’s spirited, which I enjoy. But nothing else was worth making a remark over. My standards are unobtainable… At least according to legend. I’m okay with that.

My week has been insane. My roommate has deemed me unfit to live with because I’m financially irresponsible (due to my sabbatical) and he’s had enough of it because I asked him for some leeway with money on the first. There’s a lot going into this. I’m not going to justify my life. I have been super irresponsible lately. Not because I’m bad with money, but because I’ve been unemployed. Things are panning out. My roommate is kind of self-righteous. I could give a lot of dirt, but I won’t. It isn’t my place to open up those worms. Either way, he’s never said a word to me about having a distaste for anything until about a week ago when he declared that either he was moving out or that I was. I told him like I told the person. Go fuck yourself.

Everyone does things differently. It’s a part of being human. I am, by nature, obstreperous. I’d be happy to resolve the issue. But I watched him drive around the parking lot surrounding our complex a few times just to avoid confrontation with me. As you can guess, I’m a bit of a toe-stepper. I, also, don’t deal with childish reactions very well. If you’re unhappy about something, bring it up. Don’t wait two months and declare that you’re unhappy now. That’s immature. If you have a problem address it.

I went out Thursday with Tinder-girl to see Guardians of the Galaxy. It’s been a few short-lived comics series, but with that I felt Marvel could do whatever they wanted with it and not have a lot of “hardcore fan backlash”. Like Iron Man 3 and making James ‘Rhodey’ Rhodes Iron Patriot… Um… Norman Osborn started his own group of Avengers after the Avengers disbanded and he led them in a Mark III version of an Iron Man suit that he painted America colors and called himself Iron Patriot. Iron Patriot is basically a bad guy in the comics. Or at least Kevin Spacey in House of Cards in an Iron Man suit. Norman Osborn is the Green Goblin for those of you who aren’t nerds.

She loved it. I loved it too. I have a hard time not loving Thanos. And I’m really loving the way Marvel is building toward the Infinity Gauntlet. I have a tattoo sleeve of super villains on my right arm and the Marvel characters who competed with the Joker were Thanos and Omega Red. Needless to say, Tinder-girl saw some really nerdy shit come out of me on Thursday. Also, me using a hyphen in her nickname is a Spider-man reference. I’m 100% that no one caught that, but that’s why they are Easter eggs. I will say, as my only movie spoiler, The Nova Corps is a bunch of sissies compared to the comics. I can’t express that enough.

Anywho, she and I hung out Thursday and she invited herself over Friday. We didn’t fool around. We talked. Honestly, I don’t know to read her. It’s weird as well because I’m usually great at calling people on their bullshit but with her, I’m lost. I can’t tell what’s sarcasm and what isn’t. Am I smitten? Am I just that bad at it? Is there different type of sarcasm in my twenties than the one I mastered in college?

I’m going to tell on myself here a bit. I met a girl a few weeks ago from New York City who had on dress that I remarked on after exploring the alcohol filled caves of Friday or Saturday night. It was around 2 am and I met her outside of a local pizza place. I got her number (self high-five). She and I have talked quite a bit since then.

So if we’re keeping track, there’s Tinder-girl, the convenient partner (who I had a falling out with midweek because apparently I “play games”.) The lass from the city (who I’ve started reading a few J.D. Salinger books from her request). Also, by popular demand, the den mother… because she and I are apparently destined to be wed. She laughed when I told her about people inquiring about a relationship. My life is a lot less romantic right now than it could be.

I’m telling on myself. My resolve of romantic hasn’t wavered. But really, you can’t expect to give your all to one person and expect that much in return these days. Or perhaps college made me jaded. Women want attention, but not too much. It’s a game. I hate to say it, but it is.

Romance is lost. My resolve needed bending.

There are much bigger things at play in my life right now than the women in it. Or girls in certain instances. I’m not sleeping with all of them, or hell, any of them currently. I’m not the serial sex artist, these objectives don’t come to me as they do with him. It’s part of an enjoyable dynamic. He told me that if I got over a few social perspectives that I’d be great at what he does. However, I have no interest in it. Though, I suppose I’ve performed my own multi-dater dynamic.

Who knows. I sort of brush it off. I want one lass to treat with quality, but in the era of cell phones and Skype quality treatment is devolving. Telling someone how you feel is a negative because we all have a game. Well, this field is mine.

“Be brave, don’t cry. It’s all an adventure.”
– The Wake by Scott Snyder

Do you ever look at an old person and think “that’s what I have to look forward to?” myself and my spouse, god-willing we reach a combined age of 170, with our skin wrinkled and falling off the meat like baked chicken. At what point do you stop caring about what someone looks like and care more for who they are? Is there ever that point or does sexual appetite die when the skin starts falling off the chicken?

Shallow, I know.

I’ve spent some time with the other group comic nerd in the past few days and after looking up something that he claimed with conviction “I have a degree in that so there’s nothing I don’t know about it.” he was wrong. That conversation started but us talking about working out and I brought up this, to which he said wasn’t even real. Now, having a degree in anything doesn’t make you more than a journeyman of that information. Mastering anything takes honing down a set into a refined version. This is why we have general education, a major, masters degrees and PHDs. We never totally master anything because rules change so frequently, particularly with technology and medicine. But even in art styles the rules change to modern and post modern and grunge and hard-core and modern Street art has different rules than modern writing.

I’ve known for a while that he talks bigger-hypes himself up. Some type of complex that makes him feel the need to be the smartest person in the room. An arrogance for intellect. He’s smart, I don’t want to give that impression. But he rants more about half pieces of information or just claiming things with a conviction that make him seem right. And when you question him on it, he proclaims superior intellect over all his surrounding subjects.

And I thought mommy and daddy didn’t hug me enough as a kid…

He’s a friend, but a small dose type. I’m sure I have ways that I feel the need to express my dominance in situations, but certainly not the point where I need to tell people how smart I am or randomly pick women up (physically) to show a contest of strength. I have complexes, I’m sure. But I don’t need people to think I’m something that I’m not. I’m a smart guy, and I can manage conversations well in most any context and most disciplines. I’m also very strong for my size, but I don’t feel the need to pick people up when they say they could beat me in a physical confrontation. As has been the case when he’s picked women up (physically).

I have no interest in being involved in dick measuring contests. So I usually just turn away when he starts getting riled up.

But seriously, hug your kids.

I’ve basically been in a relationship since I moved to Maryland. I dated a really nice girl who got married this weekend for about eight months. Five months after we parted ways, she was engaged. I really feel like I dodged a bullet. About a month after we parted ways, I started dating a girl that I worked with. And that break-up was the inspiration for me to start putting my thoughts into a blog. Not because I think anyone cares, but more of a self-awareness/satisfaction type thing where I needed somewhere to vent. Given my usual party crowd, there’s not a lot of feeling swapping stories to go around.

Ever since I started telling people about this, I’ve kind of withdrawn myself and been a little less candid with my own thoughts than I ought to be. Fuck that. That’s stupid. I realize now that my audience is more than just myself. But I’m still not writing this because other people are interested. I needed an outlet and this is that.

About two weeks ago I started fooling around with a girl that lives in my building. That’s convenient, right? Also, Thursday night I went out with a crowd of folks that I wandered off from here and there. Among those out that night were the multi-dater and his new one seed. He told me that he, nor she, felt that Tinder-girl and I are a good match. I inquired further. He elaborated, “she’s not as wild as you are.” I take that as a compliment, honestly.

As for the convenient partner… That situation is weird as shit. Also, I’ve heard from several people that the den mother and I are going to end up together. The convenient partner and I are still working on our ground rules as fuck buddies. Over the weekend her and her roommates had a joint birthday endeavor for her roommate and another friend of theirs. There were a lot of females. One in particular I was jazzed up about. So, being told by the convenient partner that we shouldn’t be on each other in public (maybe the name should change to the dirty little secret.) I went pretty hard after this girl who told me that she couldn’t do anything because she didn’t want to cock block her friend. After that night, I got told that I shouldn’t blatantly hit on other people with her around.

So, I’m not allowed to show interest in her (not that I’m interested in dating her.) and I’m not allowed to hit on other people. It’s a situation I’m detaching myself from. Despite the convenience sake of it all, there are a lot of rules. I don’t like rules. It’s dumb. It’s all really dumb. And the absolute last thing I want is to have feelings getting hurt getting involved.

I’m not a jealous person. Much less so when I’m not committed to someone. You’re not mine, I’m not yours. Do what you want. Tinder-girl and I had that conversation a while back. But with the convenient partner, it’s only convenient when it’s 10 pm and either of us are looking for a little play time. Other than that, it’s very inconvenient.

The serial sex artist has been frequenting his time with one gal. Though he’s not isolated his time to her, she’s very much his one seed. Seems he and I have switched roles. Though, I have neither the time, concern, or patience to micro-manage a phone number full of women, I’m still involved in debauchery of my own accord.

The job is a wack attack (that means it sucks). The money isn’t where I thought it would be. Nor as easy. Also, seeing random people that I don’t really interact, it’s very hard to tell them that this a necessary evil and part of a much grander plan. It’s an option as long as I need it to be one. Hopefully after September, the need for the option will have abated.

During my sabbatical, I was stressed about finding something to generate revenue. Now I have revenue generation and I’m stressed out because I hate small talk and having to fake being polite to people. “Sorry dude, your wife is a biggity-bitch”. But instead I have to suck it up and be semi-polite. On my Ps and Qs, as it were. I have the next two days from the job.

Time with Tinder-girl has been scarce. I’m persistent as always, but the time isn’t there. The convenient partner has a lot of rules. I’ve known for a long time what I can do and what I can’t. Perhaps this situation(s) is more problematic that I could initially guess. Maybe I need a reevaluation. Tinder-girl and I get along marvelously well when we’re together, but getting together is rare.

I’m not naive to believe that a perfect instance of serendipity will come my way. I’m not going to meet a dream girl will my schedule is so sporadic. I need to withdraw myself a little more and focus wholly on myself. The convenient partner should be convenient for that. However, of the girls that I am interacting with, nothing seems to be budging in any direction. Positive nor negative with these young lasses. Obviously, it’s not worth diving into if I haven’t already done so.

I’m also totally over the alcohol filled caves of Friday and Saturday night. DJ Panda isn’t cutting it anymore. Give me house parties or leave me be.

“May you find what you’re searching for, and recognize what you need for they are seldom the same.”

I was asked by the den mother to give my perspective on this.

I honestly wouldn’t say anything about it, but I’m a crowd pleaser. There’s two parts to this. The first part is how dating and courting a young lass are dying. Virtues, morals, chivalry, dead. The second thought is how stupid my generation is for bringing things like this about.

We’ve grown up to believe in Disney romances, true love, and a bunch of other stuff that’s basically a fairy tale. Not that love isn’t real, but you’re never going on a magic carpet ride with a princess and a monkey. Likewise, the reality of it is just like Dave Chappelle said. “Chivalry is dead and women killed it.” He claims that women flooded the market with that vajayjay and murdered chivalry because it no longer forces guys to work for anything. Then, the bad boy thing became popular. A guys switched over to wearing white shirts and jeans to bars and clubs. Classic James Dean. Then, you wonder why he cheated on you with your best friend when you went to a bacholette party! Because you wanted the bad boy.

It’s a social dynamic of a lot of things. We’ve created a culture where we all do what we do because it either gets us laid, or because our friends will make fun of us if we don’t. That’s why we congregate in clicks. Hipsters, wiggers, skaters, emo kids… these terms stem from somewhere. Sub cultures of a bigger society. The older generations are very politically correct. Well, the naive ones are.

I’ve mentioned the duality before. Our generation is littered with it. “I want a lady in the streets, but a freak in the bed.” Good luck. I’m not saying it doesn’t exist, but the alcohol filled caves of Friday and Saturday night meeting a lady who’s coming home with you that night, isn’t a lady.

Our generation is creating this mess from being spoon fed the unintelligible banter from Stephanie Meyers and whomever wrote Fifty Shade of Grey. I recently had a young lass tell me that my vocabulary is very good because I used the word ‘privy’ in a sentence… It’s a five letter word, Sugar Britches, I’m not creating algorithms to reinvent computer languages. We eat up Real World, Survivor, and all kinds of other stupid shows that we find ourselves engrossed into a weekly basis. We shy away from written text, and I won’t say classically well written because I don’t like a lot of the classically great artists.

Andy Warhol sucks.

I get shit from people sometimes because I read comics. Well Joss Whedon has a stint on Astonishing X-Men that’s really spectacular! You may know him from Firefly and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. He also did the Avengers movie. It’s a great piece of work.

We need to moving towards something with a lot more value. Not something that involves people dating naked on television. We are the generation of entrepreneurs and the next big thing. Sadly that only really applies the dreaded 1% of my generation. The ones half of my friends bitched about a few years ago. Heaven forbid you should keep what you’ve earned. Even worse, you paid for them. Steve Jobs never donated to charity and everyone has an Iphone.

Moving for, Millenials, lets make smarter moves. Dig deeper in our research. Take less things at face value and look more at the big picture. Expand your horizons.

Don’t ask for it, go out and win it. Do that and you’ll be rewarded.


Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 33 other followers