Here we are. The second post. How quick this time came. It’s like I posted the last post a minute ago and then I drank too much and passed out and here we are.

I’ve been burning through past episodes of Bill Burr’s Monday Morning Podcast. I’m not sure if I’m learning anything. But it’s been more rewarding than listening to WTF with Marc Maron Lately. I don’t know when I’ll return to WTF but I need an indefinite break from listening to how people made it. How they just managed to jump from obstacle to obstacle like a monkey in a tree and here I am not knowing how to get to step one. I tell you, it brings my Green Eyed Monster to light.

so that’s what I’m doing. See you tomorrow.

I’m writing this because I told myself to write or add something to this website everyday from here on out.

My Dog Scrump is sitting next to me, the window is open and the sun is shinning and it’s an unseasonably warm day.

Bill Burr calls it “The Golden Age of Global Warming.” People try to sooth my fears. It doesn’t work.

Is this all I have to write today? Have I written enough for the “Write Something a day” resolution?

Men are supposed to be alone in their heads. A mushy grey matter reaches in a million different directions, but never touching anything. The feeling of touch reaches a different part of the brain, but not the spot that yearns for more.

The internet does not help men. We shouldn’t be in an echo chamber with other minds. That’s how incels are created.

Read books by men like Hemingway and Hunter S. Thompson. Books like that teach you how to think of something other than pussy.

like me. I’m thinking about the dread of going to work. Seasonal depression fucking with me. I can’t express this to anyone and my dog doesn’t give a shit.

I don’t know if I’ll do a podcast anytime soon.