Reverie Machine

Everyone still laughs at the jokes, but there’s no denying: these jokes are hiding more than a hint of cynicism underneath the punchline. “It’s almost over, right?” “Yeah. Right.”

Because how funny can it be, eating a five-star meal in the most beautiful restaurant on an inevitably sinking ship? This is one hell of a last meal, if I may say so myself. Sweet, savory, full of all the bad things we used to think about—even avoid—and intoxicating as all hell. Who cares, I say. Eat up, drink up, take in the view; it might get better, but you definitely won’t have the wherewithal (or a care, at all) to relish in it.

You’re all grown up, now. There’s no time for those pretty things anymore.

Winter

Winter is my favorite fucking season. I love snow and I love bundling up and I love jumping off cliffs with skis on. But this winter kind of blows.

I haven’t spent much time complaining so I’m just going to let it all out here. Preface: I’m pretty stoked on life right now, so all the things that are going to spew out here are pretty much all the things I’m pissed off about. Totally.

I’ve been working a solid 60+ hours a week since the beginning of 2010. It doesn’t seem like that much, but I work at a creative studio and spend about 50 of those hours trying to be completely brilliant. It’s exhausting. It’s thrown a wrench in my social life. It makes me want to move to California, where nobody has a job.

It’s also given me next to no time for interpersonal consideration. I don’t think about the fact that I’m single and not-so-loving-it (no time, no hoes), or that I had a bad breakup with one of my best friends that I can’t still really explain or comprehend. I’m a little worried that one of these days the weight of my emotional repression is going to collapse on me and I’m going to punch a baby in the face, or whatever.

Finally, I haven’t jumped off ANY cliffs this ski season. It’s bullshit. On the days when I actually have time enough to strap in and hit the mountain, it doesn’t snow. And the rest of the days…well, 60+ hours.

I’m going to New York tonight, to meet with clients on a couple really exciting projects. It’s a good thing I don’t hate my job because if I did I’d have gone postal by now—but I swear to God, if I don’t see at least one of my dear friends while I’m on the other side of the country I’ll probably annoy someone on the plane ride home with my uncontrollable sobbing.

This has been fun…next post, I promise, will be about something positive.

On Removing Tumblarity

Thank goodness I’ll feel far less compelled to post uninteresting things now.