I'M GOOD...HOW ARE YOU?

*Perfunctory blog post alert*

I really feel like my life is getting better; a series of small, yet important victories has led me to believe that I am capable of change and more importantly that I'm not a total fucking asshole/fuck-up. I got ways to go, but I think I'm on the right path.

Although I'm not totally sober (I've had some drinks here and there, and there) I am proud to say I have not ingested a single controlled substance, and I've got my drinking in check. It hasn't been easy, but feeling healthy-ish has been it's own unique award.

Too bad it's so damn cold out here in Chicago; it keeps me from going to the gym as frequently as I would like, and I keep picking up more and more shifts at work (which is it's own work out). And obviously I'm walking EVERYWHERE not by choice, but that's OK.

Overall, I guess my life is a precarious balance between being boring and responsible, hence this ho-hum blog post. But it's better than posting about how I got smashed and woke up next to someone I don't recognize, right?

Hope you all are doing well. Let's agree to not make 2011 suck, cool?

AN EXPLANATION FOR MY LACK OF RECENT POSTS

This weekend marks the 7th month of my employment as a Bar Back, a profession for which I certainly never excepted to find my in, yet here I am, barely able to find more than 2 consecutive days off, knees, shot, relationships affected at best, voided at worst. Yet here I stand, er sit.

I refrained from posting because I realized that not even my close friends, let alone acquaintances, to say nothing of blog readers want to hear about my random trivial working life; I realize it's petty and uninteresting, so I made the decision to spare you all the boredom.

That being said, I suppose I could spin certain observations into narratives that may hold one's attention, but probably not. Not too mention, I've just been too tired too tired too even try. You can chalk it up to drinking too much, money issues or my "place" in the world. My perspective is simply too warped, both fragile and raw.

My days and nights blend together into an endless continuum of set shifts of work, and ones asked of me at the last moment that I feel I can't pass up, because...I live on tips, or more specifically the random generosity of random strangers grateful or not more my submissive service.

Most nights, when I close down the bar, I seek safe transportation home, in a beautiful yet very dangerous city, pocket full of hard earned and usually lean cash, ready to be stolen.

The grateful nights my friend does not pick me up (bless him) I keep my Bar Key, a useless weapon, hidden in my front pocket, hiding it so not as to tip off an offender as to my occupation, yet keeping it "ready" as a defense mechanism.

My days are short, isolated, the nights, long, the mornings after even longer and involve too much thinking about my current life; social, work and romantic inclinations almost never blend well at these times.

I've been having fucked up "dreams" that entwine these various parts of my disparate life. Sometimes they help to make sense of it, other times, they make it more confusing.

So you see, none of the above is an excuse...merely an explanation. Or maybe not, it's up to you.

MY "WORK" SPACE

The other day I was thinking about how other people utilize their work space. Where do you blog from? Or read blogs at? I figure people spend an inordinate amount of time in cubicles and/or behind some sort of desk. In the spirit of sharing, I thought I would share an image of mine (below).

The gilded framed Monet is a sorta hand me down from my Father; I'm by no means a fan of Impressionism, but I had no where else to store this painting (it's actually a reproduction, duh!) so I hung it over my desk. Speaking of, said "desk" was purchased by my Father at Sear's after my parents got divorced. And that evil chair is from OfficeMax. CLASSY!

For reasons I am not sure of, I am very interested in the work spaces of those who also blog/and/or read them. If you're feeling game, post a pic in the comments or on your own blog. WOOT!

I'M A WRITER

For whatever reason it's taken me nearly this fucking long to realize what my purpose for existing on this earth is: to write. I realized this, at 5AM when I couldn't sleep and my inner monologue was keeping me awake.

This isn't to say I am a good one (not fishing for compliments!) but it is an acknowledgement of my natural state of being; I haven't expressed this to more than 1 or 2 close friends, but I constantly play out scenarios and/or situations within my mind. Like all the fucking time.

This keeps me up at odd hours, and I can only imagine what my current Roomie thinks of me. He keeps odd hours too, but that's because he's a respectably employed student of medicine (that amount of studying simply blows my mind).

The other night, on Saturday, while working my Doorman/Bouncer/Lifeguard/Babysitter of drunks gig, one of the "regulars" came in. This guy is trendy in appearance, gregarious by nature and seems to support himself by pirating porno DVD's (he graciously offered me a copy of "Stuffin' Muffins 3" but I declined. Again.) Anyways, he referred to me as "Quiet Guy", in a most jovial manner.

It's not that I'm trying to came across as a dick. I'm just an observant person. Sometimes I wonder about the dichotomy between what people who read this blog, and my natural persona.

And now that I typed that I feel like an egotistical ass-hat.

But still. With my close friends, I am very loud and dare I say, vivacious, but with people I am not close with, I am positively stoic. As with every rule, there are exceptions; casual acquaintances sometimes lull me out of my quietude, and compel me to be witty.

Where was I going with this? Right! What literally gets me out of bed is a deep seated need to put words on a page, although I must note that I worry to excess about excessive use of the word "I" to the point that constantly forget to capitalize it (no shit, I just had to go back and fix that, haha).

Sometimes the need to write conflicts with my natural tenancy not to draw attention to myself, but I just can't help myself, and I admire those of you that put up with my random musings, as I don't consider them to be unique or particularity insightful (or grammatically correct). And this isn't modestly, just an observation.

GOODNIGHT

I could check and see what number post this is...something in the 550+'s...but I won't. The effort seems futile, and the random responses recently received seem also not worth the effort to respond to.

Some people don't like my prodigious use of the word FUCK. And that's fair. I understand how crass it might seem, but from my point of view, I.E. how my friends and I communicate freely amongst one another in conversation, well, that's just how it goes.

And my aim is to write how I speak. Always was and still is.

What bothers me, at this moment, is my seemingly inability to explain myself, specifically...my current situation in life. I won't even try at this point. All I have to say: I'M SICK AND FUCKING TIRED of feeling like I have to explain myself.

The original intention of creating this forum was to connect with people like myself. Which, for a period of over 2 years worked great; sadly it's outlived it's usefulness, and I refuse to bore people with random thoughts that seem at odd with the greater population of readers (of whom I really appreciate).

I...just don't know how to use this space anymore without feeling creatively constricted. So for now, and likely for the forever future, this is it.

Thank you for reading.

I WANT HOMEWORK!

Today I was thinking about my blog and whoever reads this shit. Specifically, I am curious if anyone has any suggestions about what I might write that people might enjoy/appreciate. So, please...suggest away!

I want homework! If there is anything you might be interested in reading what I might write, hit me up! In the meantime, here's a picture of Mickey Mouse performing an act of sodomy on my person. Perhaps that could spark some ideas. Maybe not...

COMPROMISED

"Regret is a wasted motion"
-Unknown

A few days ago a friend asked me why I haven't been blogging as much as of late. Part of the reason is that, well, my life is pretty fucking boring as of late. I could relate my daily activities, which would probably go something like this:

"This morning I woke up at 7AM, took a piss, got some water and went back to sleep for another 4 hours. Then I woke up, made "breakfast", read the paper, took a shower, watched 3 hours of Ramsey's Kitchen Nightmares, starting drinking at 4PM, watched the same episode of Top Gear for the 4th time, dropped a deuce, applied to a few jobs I won't get a response to, then jerked off, etc, etc."

Exciting shit, I know. There is yet another reason though for my lack of blogging quantity. After my friend asked me the earlier question, she had mentioned that her BF reads my blog. This surprised me, and made me think about the fact that the vast majority of my friends my read my blog.

Not that it matters. In fact, I feel almost flattered that my friends regularly tune in to read what's going on in "Justin's world". Then again, this knowledge almost makes me hesitant to the extent that feel I have to censor myself so as not to offend certain constituencies.

I'd never write something that I don't mean, but then again it's all about context, and it's all too easy to take certain things the wrong way. No one has ever called my on any supposed bullshit, but I still have that little editor in the back of my head that says "Hey! Great idea! Just don't write about it unless you want to piss people close to you off!".

When I first started writing int his forum I had no such qualms. But over time it just made sense to acknowledge the existence of this blog. For example, when I went to New York City last year it probably seemed strange to my Father that I had a handful of friends to hang out with (i.e. blogger friends).

Not that I admitted the existence of this blog to my Father (dear Gawd no!) but it made sense to explain to my friends that I met several other bloggers. From there it just snowballed and one friend would tell another, then another and so on. I don't regret it, nor does it bother me. But it has altered what I write and how.

Instead of thinking of this as a bad thing, I've almost come to embrace it, to the extent that I sometimes place certain "in-jokes" within my prose (whoa! that sounds pretentious as hell!). Still, in some instances, the knowledge of my audience almost hinders my writing.

In time, I hope to bridge the gap; until then, please bare with me...

THANK YOU

Ah yes, Thanksgiving. That time of year when Americans drink too much, eat even more and take stock of their lives and realize how damn lucky they are. Or at least most of us Yanks do. That might sound like some sort of an indictment of the American populace, but really it is anything but. We live incredibly "fast" lives and rarely are offered a respite from the madness to reflect.

Thankfully, since my office closed at 2:30PM this afternoon (thanks bossman! Oh, and sorry for coming in an hour late this morning. It's all the Roomie's fault, she kept me up until 3:30AM watching Friday Night Lights) I have been afforded the opportunity to relax and think about the things I am thankful for. Here is a brief list:

1. My amazingly laid back family who didn't blink an eye when I came out to them this year. I love you all so very much.

2. My diverse assortment of friends, both old and new, near and far (you know who are). I am blessed to know so many AWESOME people. You color my life with happiness (and put up with my shit).

3. My health, which remains intact despite the curve balls I throw at it.

4. My wealth...er, modest income that allows me to live a life that 98% of the world's population would kill for (or in certain instances would kill me for).

5. My apartment which literally and figuratively provides me shelter from many a storm.

6. My sexy Japanese car which elicits a smile from me each and every time I twist the key (except for that one time back in June when it refused to start for no apparent reason).

7. My ears which have been flooded with a vast array of music, this year in particular in which I saw so many sick shows. Musically, this year fucking Rawked. Woot!

8. My city, which despite it's many flaws, is my eternal home/playground. Chicago, you are my heart and one of these days I will get a Chicago flag tattooed on the base of my neck. Promise!

9. My penis, for obvious reasons (haha).

10. My blog, which has surpassed my extremely modest expectations and allowed me to meet and/or chat with so many interesting people (see #2).

There are, of course, other things for which I am thankful (like Grady Sizemore), but you get the drift. Oh, I should also note that I am extremely thankful that I will not be spending any time whatsoever stuck on a tarmac at O'Hare or a congested lane on the Kennedy.

Although it would have been great to see my parents on this holiday, and could have bankrupted myself doing so (seriously, $600 to fly to phoenix? Huh?) but I am glad to share dinner tomorrow with my brother and his girlfriend (who is doing the cooking for us boys).

Other plans this weekend include being a host to not one, but two very near and dear friends of mine from high school who I have offered my bed do (fuck, I need to wash my sheets). Also, I will be consuming copious amounts of Pabst Blue Ribbon and then burning that off at the gym.

Finally, I will be putting together what might very well be my "piece de renaissance" (see SSD - I know some French!) the XXX-Mas Tree, which may or may not require a trip to the confession box at the Catholic Church down the street ("forgive me father, for I have fashioned a dildo into an angel tree topper").

That about does it. Seeing as it's 5 o'clock on the eastern seaboard, I think it's about time for some PBR!

I hope everyone has a tremendously excellent Thanksgiving (or at the least does not get into any fistfights with family members).

THE NEW NEW YORKER

Man, am I glad that day of work is over. Running around the city, drinking with old friends and and staying up much too late really took it out of me this weekend. Thankfully, there was little work that needed to be done today so the balance of Monday was spent reading blogs and various newspapers. A most pleasant surprise greeted me when I checked in on my favorite Chicago photo blog, Looper.

The supremely talented man behind the blog recently choose to leave Chicago (boo!) to fulfill a lifelong dream of his to move to New York City (yay!). In addition to maintaining Looper he also started up a New York photo blog, 24Gotham and, as I discovered today, yet another blog, The New New Yorker. What does this man eat for breakfast? I barely keep one blog up and running, let alone 3!

Check out his various blogs, they are certainly worth your time.

Now I just have one question: is it really common for New Yorkers to use their ovens for storage? If so, I think I'll stay right here in my spacious 2 bedroom Chicago 6 flat...

Oh, and Happy Birthday man!

Off to see the Simpsons Movie!!! (JR, feel free to make fun of me about my excessive use of the exclamation point)!