Birthday 2022
God, thank you for my life. It’s a good one.
Now let’s complain. Nothing matters. Spiritually castrated. 46 years old childless, nightmare scenario, gray collar office job. Writing shit few people read that makes no money. Tons of work and all your talent into it for no tangible reward. Look at word processors nine hours a day for work and then as your hobby on weekends. Going to bed at 9 pm. Not that good looking and now withered wrinkly and white haired on top of it. It’s good. It fucking feels good. I’d go so far as to say it’s fantastic. I have a Down Syndrome mentality. A squirrel makes me laugh. So stupid I’m free from giving a shit. Poor ugly old loser– imagine being a winner. Cunt frozen eggs design wife chiding you. The money’s not enough. There are two amounts of money. 10 million or 0. When you hit “enough” people sue you and your life becomes paperwork. I get better pussy than Jeff Bezos.
I had chicken and cupcakes at my mom’s house. She told the story of my birth. Freak winter heat wave made all the women drop early. No rooms at the hospital. They put her in a hallway. She was half the age I am now. As old as my big titty Lithuanian sugar baby. I came out way too soon. Tiny and fucked up like a possum. In the hospital weeks without my mother. I stopped breathing. The total coin toss of my being here. The chicken was so good, she made it with lemons from their tree. Three headed cows, a blood color comet. I became an office worker. Maybe the kid in the next room did something.
This post sucks. Don’t lock yourself into a “franchise bit.”
I’m just a creature putting its song in the world.
The best gift I got was the Lithuanian girl sending her diary. Yes I wrote about you but this post was too long so I cut it. She looks like my first fiancee. The one who destroyed any chance I had, permanently. Women repeat like the background in Flintstones cartoons.
Sometimes I wake up crazy. Looking at texts they seem to be from someone else with some other meaning. When I make my coffee sometimes I fuck up. Forget to put the water in and think why is the machine quiet. I think: I’m miserable. I should kill myself , etc. It got to just what I didn’t want. 46 alone working in a shitty shack with freeway noise like eating broken glass–I should hang myself immediately. And it just passes. The cat comes in. I give him Friskies Turkey and Giblets Dinner. The birds are out and I pray to remember that I’m just one of God’s organisms. Just a creature putting its song in the world.
46 years old. An inconsequential age, who gives a shit. It’s the middle. I have a six inch penis. Average amount of money. 6 in the face. I’m an average person. I’m a moron compared to Vitalik Buterin but I have a stronger neck.
Angela sent me a guided meditation video. A calm Australian man talks over the image of a bird. It’s a lilac breasted roller. A bird I saw at Disney World when I was ten. I stopped the whole family to look. The most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. She didn’t know this bird was significant to me. At Disney world, at their aviary, they also had the world’s last dusky seaside sparrow. One of these male birds where there are no females left. He was singing to no one. We all know the story. But I heard you.
Now Kevin’s playing his atmospheric meth music at insane volumes. Does it matter. The world doesn’t need another birthday post. I hate special occasions. And it’s not about me. I’ll go visit my mom. She’s making chicken and cupcakes. Let the people texting know I’m not dead. In the guided meditation the lilac breasted roller took me above the clouds into my future. An old man in the jungle helping a village. Getting the girls pregnant too.