Hi there,
El Jefe just shared an Instagram photo with you:
Thanks,
The Instagram Team
I’m seriously thinking about getting myself an iPad 2. Beside the fact that it’s a really cool device, I think it could really help me to get some work done and stay organized. We’ll see.
Well, the year is still 2011 and, yes, this year still sucks. Just in case you weren’t sure.
The segment of my life from January 1st until now has easily been the worst year of my entire life (a trend which, presumably, will continue until December 31st). There been laughter anguish and tears as well as a non-stop cavalcade of misfortune which has challenged my sanity!
“Surely,” you might say, “It can’t be that bad.”
The past nine months has been full of all kinds of misfortune. Sadly, it hasn’t been one of those ‘comedy of errors’ types of misfortune. It’s been ‘I hope this water pipe in the ceiling is sturdy enough to tie a noose to and support my own weight’ kind of misfortune. Even Steven Wright would take one look at me and say, “Whoa. Dude.”
I mean, I could go on and on about the financial assaults from various institutions that have decided to haul off and boot me full-on in the testicles time and time again this year. Or, I could talk about the absolute misery that my career path is bringing me from one day to the next. Or, I could talk about how I haven’t even had sex this year. That’s right. NOT ONCE. And I’m not talking about a “holy shit we got interrupted by the kids”. I haven’t even come close.
Let’s put it this way: I’m the only person that has touched my dick since mid-2010. Now, let that one bounce around in your cranium for a while.
Let me be crystal clear on this issue: anyone who believes in the ‘sanctity of marriage’ is fucking delusional. Or in need of anti-psychotics. Either way, I hate you and I want you to die. Slowly and painfully.
It’s one of those epiphanies where you come home from work and your house looks like an episode of ‘Hoarders’, the dog is humping the shit out of the blanket that your ten year old kid is trying to curl up with and, if you had a molotov cocktail… you might seriously consider lighting it, throwing it into the living room and just walking straight back out to your car to drive away. Not to get too specific or anything. Because an RPG or a simple hand grenade might also do the trick.
Really… with everything that I do and everything that I say, it feels like it’s falling on deaf ears. No one pays attention and no one listens to anything I have to say. It’s pretty much like this blog, actually. Pointless.
While I was in a meeting this morning, I apparently got paged by the front desk to move my car. Someone mentioned the page when I got back to my desk.
So I went out to figure out WTF and I wish I would have got a picture before I moved my car. I was the first person to park on the road this morning (I got to work at 7:00 am) so I don’t know who could have a problem with the way I parked since everyone else could just park around me.
Now, this photo was taken AFTER work. Like 5:30 pm. I moved my car around 10:00 am. And when I went out at 10:00, this silver car was parked about an inch and a half off my rear bumper. At 5:30, the car hadn’t moved.
No one. That’s who.
It doesn’t matter and it never has. It’s supposed to be something that comes from inside that makes this life worth living. Isn’t it? Some shred of honesty and self-realization that makes me a good man, that transforms me from the beast that I am to something worthy of desire and love?
While I may have lost these things, I believe I once held them as part of who I thought I was and yet it made no difference. I grew uglier.
It’s dusk and, yet, the city refuses to be silenced. The birds have returned to their nests and the white noise of tires clashing on asphalt is omnipresent.
I lay here, in darkness… listening to the jetliners pass overhead; full of people going somewhere to do something.
Me? I just lay here.
Listening.
To the droning of the city.