You know what? Life sucks. It’s really hard. And then you’re taxed, on top of it. I just got some devastating financial news yesterday, and as much as I tend to try and be the financially irresponsible “Who gives a shit? It’s just money dudes!” little gutter punk i professed to be as a tween, it’s harder now that I have a conscience, rent to pay, and a deafening sense of my own mortality. What are we supposed to do about this constant flow of total bummer news that’s perpetually sling-shotted at us as we creep into adulthood? Why am I so materialistic? When did I become a Clueless-esque shopper? What is it about me, that makes me want to be like “fuck this! fuck that! fuck everything! Buy everything!” after hearing this, instead of an immediate sane person’s reaction of “Well time to tighten my belt and not go shopping or eat at restaurants again, ever.” How are people, like, EVER “mellow” or whatever?
Capitalism, man. Why aren’t we all just fed rations and given potato sacks to wear? I think that I’d be bummed about that at first but by the end I’d be like “it’s cool we got our potato sacks and our rations let’s party.”
Travelling and also, on not being one of the popular kids
I was bummed out thinking about life and all these things that suck, like not being one of the popular kids in Portland, so i decided to turn off my sad bastard music and lose myself in some Comet Bus. Fail safe. Aaron’s lonely words of vagabond wisdom always make me feel at least a little bit less alone. He was talking about Cleveland sucking and being alone on a greyhound on Thanksgiving and then running into some old helpful friendly acquaintances, and I realized, “whatever, man” because i might not be one of the popular kids here in Portland, and I know I’m always leaving, but the thing with being popular here is sometimes it seems like you have to focus 100% on this town, and on being cool in this town. I’m not that kind of person. Take me out of my “element” or whatever and I’ll thrive. I’ll be better. Take some of the “cool kids” I’ve known outside of their element and they’ll flail and freak and scramble and get all vulnerable and weak. They won’t know what to do. But I get stronger in weird situations. I’m used to being a weirdo. I’ve traveled and been alone so much, that I know I’ll be fine. No matter what. And being comfortable with, or at least getting used to, change is the key to perpetual self-improvement. Don’t be stagnant.
So just like, IN CONCLUSION, being popular can be cool, but sometimes it just means you’re boring. Cuz you’ve been stuck in the same stupid place for too goddamned long.
In Irish Folklore the Death Coach is known as Cóiste Bodhar (Koe-shta-bower), meaning death or silent coach and if you see or even hear it then either you or a close relative will die in the very near future. The belief is that once the coach has come to the land of the living it cannot return empty. Once death has come to collect there is nothing on earth you can do to prevent it. The headless horseman that drives the coach is known as the Dullahan. The Dullahan is also known in Irish as Gan Ceann, meaning without head and it is usually seen either driving the coach that is pulled by six black horses or riding alongside on a black stallion. The eyes of the Dullahan are massive and are always darting around and the mouth is constantly grinning and showing a nasty row of sharp teeth. The flesh of the head has been described as smelling, looking, and having the feel of rotten cheese. They often carry their head with them.
“When you look inside your own mind, one of two things usually happens. Either you get kidnapped and tortured by a death squad known as The Sadness Police, or else you see into the future and witness your own terrifying death. But sometimes that death isn’t terrifying at all. Sometimes it’s just flat out boring, like a stroke or heart disease. The point is, stay the hell out of your own mind.”— Nat
I’m going to Austin in a couple of weeks to practice listening to Lucero, eating fried chicken, drinking whiskey, hanging out with my best friends on a porch, and wearing short shorts with cowboy boots.