11 Aug 2022
The thing that’s real to us is fortune and fame/
All of the rest seems like work.
Never again will I repeat myself/
Enough is enough.
It’s truly aliiive.
You don’t know what love can buy—neither do I!
Father in law in ER right now for swollen feet. I don’t really know how to console my wife. You see I’m a silly man and a recent immigrant in this country to boot. I’ve always gotten by by keeping it simple and making financial windfalls last—not reinvesting. This has been good because it ultimately left me the freedom to move to the US.
I’m here now—Phoenix—and I’m in a holding pattern it feels like. I’m living with my wife and so naturally I feel like a kept man of sorts. I felt like this back in 2018 while living in Berlin with Anne, but at the time I was much less happy and much less of a man. I felt a cripple at the time; I coudn’t stand up straight. I didn’t really love my frau (although I certainly have missed her at times) and was acutely of how aware my life was bullshit.
I wanted to be in America. Not Germany.
Now, I’m in America. That shit is fucking cool.
And Phoenix? This city is cool. It’s got its charms. If you pass out on the concrete in midday for example you will die. The floor is lava.
Lots of big concrete blocks with regard to potential parkouring obstacles. Nighttime freerunning could be a cool hobby for me to try. I just looked up parkour groups in Phoenix. Figures they’d be centred around university campuses.
My physical and postural alignment is so much better relative to last time I PK’d. Curious to see how much better it goes.
I’m getting comfortable with putting out less polished pieces. More honesty and stream of consciousness is good. Creative free writing. Creative freeballing. Hardballing like the 47th Agent. Toronto Hitman. The man from Toronto. Am I a Marty or a Rusty? Perhaps I’m neither. Perhaps I’m both. Perhaps they’re not so different in fact.
One thing I’ve realized is that I have no idea what the fuck people are thinking and feeling about anything. I only need to look at myself and how I have ascribed meaning and imaginated objective events—willfully and productively in most cases—to be omens, symbolisms or synchronicities.
12 Aug 2022
I’m not in yesterday anymore.
I counterfeit myself. I think this blog is done.
Write-Errantry 