Welcome to the Good Life

Having money’s not everything/not having it is.

-Kanye West

I stopped writing. I can’t do it anymore. I started three jobs and so I just go to work. Therefore things haven’t been happening to me and I haven’t been thinking.

Man, I don’t have the drive to write this thing right now. I’m just gonna do one draft. The old me, the jackoff who took himself very seriously would have gone back through a million times and sliced it down until it was all killer no filler. But I don’t have the energy to be artistic right now. So fuck it! There will probably be typos.

I haven’t been on WordPress in two months. When I logged on the format had changed. It’s not better – there is no functional improvement – the site just looks different, like a cousin of itself. It’s the WP office geeks justifying their salaries by moving the buttons around. I can relate because I also have an office job now and most of my workday involves tricking my boss into paying me to perform simple tasks which I have made seem difficult. I feel like a con artist but hey, we are all out there lying for money. Making your boss think you like being there when in actuality you just have a passion not being homeless. Jobs are stupid, the world is stupid, this is all stupid.


Each day I am rousted from my slumber at 5 am when the old ladies in floral-print pajamas start killing chickens in the alley (I live in Vietnam).

Out the door at 7.00. The effects of last night’s sleeping pill holds hard, so until about 9.00 am or so I’m a pessimistic nihilist. I gun the motorcycle to work in a haze, my mood a toxic aura, semi hoping a semi-truck flattens me into bean paste. By 9.00 the drugs have released me from their black curse and I like my life again. I get into gear and don’t get home till 9pm.

God damn I’m a hustler baby. I’m working like I owe child support. I’m working like a Japanese salaryman. I was probably a Japanese salaryman in my past life and will be one again in my next life. I’m working three jobs because I had no money at all for most of this year and I like money. I like cold drinks and gourmet sandwiches. I like throwing too much cash on the table and punching eject without taking part in the complex arithmetic of dividing a restaurant bill. Make the other diners think oooohhh what is his job? Who is THAT guy?

I worship currency and the simmering high that it provides. This smoothie place offered me a VIP Discount Card because I go there every day between shifts. I didn’t take the VIP Discount Card because I work too hard to get excited about 10% off a fucking smoothie. I will gladly throw money away because it’s a validation of my efforts, my motherfucking value. Meanwhile the whole world is broke and crying. I’m a piece of trash, the worst man who ever lived.

I am not a smart man but I am a white man and that means the jobs are there if I want them. They are there for me because my murderous ancestors broke the world and rearranged it. The jobs are there and the privilege is quite real but I still have to get out of bed and go get the money, which is a hassle and gives me a martyr complex and makes me forget I’m one of history’s few fortunate sons.

It requires significant thrust to break free of the financial gravity that wants to keep you at zero. Nonstop effort, running around and hitting your marks, doing things you don’t really want to do but you do them because there’s a gun to your head. Each week feels like a century. Each week is one of those weeks where all day Tuesday you think it’s Wednesday. And on Wednesday you think it’s Thursday and so on. By the time Friday afternoon hits you’re numb. And it’s perfect. The life of a drone is best for me because I squander all my freedom. When I have free time I don’t learn anything or help anyone. I don’t write anything good enough to get me famous.

That starving artist lifestyle was stressful man.

So I get the money and bring it home to me. I’ve been frantic for so long but now I’ve found the balance. No wife kids or puppies. Instead I have a motorcycle and some girls. Things have come together. And it won’t get better than this.