New Year's Eve Eve.

I don't even know what to say or where to begin preparing for the new year. Back in the day I'd be frantically creating arbitrary deadlines and tasks for myself to share my favorite albums and movies and writings and artworks and then work to share them across a blog (or numerous blogs) and then try to spread it via social media. And people seemed to read, appreciate, and genuinely care. But after pandemic times, nearly all of my artistic and creative juices just stopped flowing and all but dried up. So I've just been going to work and drinking and smoking and creating minimal things with minimal effort on a minimal scale. To almost no attention. And that's fine. It's just odd to be allowed the time and space to be self aware enough to see what the pandemic did and how it's effects are still holding on for dear life for yours truly and a number of others I know.

I got the for real for real stern talking to at work about my attendance. Basically, if I don't cut my missed days into 1/4 what they've been, I'll be looking for a new job next time we sit down to talk about my attendance. Honestly, that's probably all it will take for me to meet that generous requirement. Work sucks. I've never liked doing it. I've always been an amazing employee while on the clock but clocked the most minimal amount of hours to pay the bills and reach my goals as possible. This requirement to minimize my absences will ultimately serve to better my situation, so I ain't mad at it. I am however mad that this is the system in place for survival in the good ole United States of America. Shit is fucked.

I've had countless discussions about how the 40 hour work week is bullshit. About how our only true purpose on this planet is to create art. About how the system is designed to keep us down. All of that. But the other night, I had this wierd sort of nutshell realization of what it actually is. If we are supposed to sleep for eight hours to be the best version of ourselves. If we are supposed to work eight hours a day to contribute to and reap the rewards of the capitalist system. Then we are left with, AT BEST a single third of our lives to live as intended and actually enjoy it.

What the fuck is that nonsense?

Then, today, I watched an interview with a guy who has been homeless riding the freight trains for almost 15 years. Essentially he said - Sure you get hungry sometimes and wiping your ass can be an issue, but you pay zero rent and even less bills and get to see the country for free. My dumbass already wanting to live in the woods out of a van or some similar shit felt that sentiment hard. Almost to the point that if my second and last kid moves out when our lease is up, as planned, I might just say fuck it and not sign a lease and just figure that mess out. I'm a semi-retired graffiti artist, so I've already got a good understansding of the freight system and the sort of unspoken and unwritten rules of train life. And having been homeless for a spell prior to having kids, I know how to navigate that space and collect a bit of scratch to make shit happen.

Add to all that mess my rekindled desire to get in shape and go out painting again. Seems like win-win mentality to me, however it all shakes out.

I ended up getting mad wasted last night so didn't journal or otherwise update the site, so tonight's health, diet, and exercise update is a two-fer.



  • One McDonald's Double Cheeseburger
  • One McDonald's 10 Piece Chicken Nuggets w/ two Sweet And Sour sauces
  • About 3 oz. of Planter's Cheese Curls
  • About 2 oz. of Peanut M&Ms

  • Six 16.9 oz Diet Mountain Dews
  • One 12 oz. cup of Holiday Station Stores Donut Holes (still can't find nutrition facts online for this one, so might have to snap my own pic and take my own notes next time
  • One Holiday Station Stores Rack O' Rib Stacker
  • One half pint Evan Williams
  • Seven 16 oz. Natural Ice tallboys
  • At least and way more than 96 oz. water (I stopped counting)

  • 7300 steps
  • 90 minutes stretching
  • 10 munute guided meditation

  • [ B A C K ]