Sunday, January 10, 2016

I want to get shit ironed out, I want my life back in some semblance of real order. I guess I don't know exactly what that is, but I think I'll know it when I get there. I know that that I'm not there right now, I'm not where I want I to be. I'm not where I had hoped at be at at this age. But I feel like I'm on my way to getting there. Since this whole jazz happened to me about my left side, I've hated going to shows. I avoid it as much as possible. I live in the city now, where shows are a common occurrence. The last one I went to might have been in the summer when my friend's band was playing. It wasn't until I got there that I found out he was scheduled to play last. I stuck it out as much as I could, but it was too loud to not have ear plugs because that venue is shitty small and has the worst possible acoustics, so, to compensate, they just turn shit as loud as it will go. They pack people in as much as possible and sell shitty cheap beers. Because my left side is completely fucked, when the pushing and shoving happens, I nearly fall down because my balance is so fucked. It's actually gotten much better since I started working out again a year and a half ago, but it's still just short of terrible and I absolutely hate falling, so I try to avoid those situations as much as possible. Younger Tom would be pissed to know that I'm living in the city with ample opportunity to go to shows and I actively avoid it. I couldn't even tell you the last time I went to a proper house show or basement show. Are those still things? Do punk kids still put on illegal shows in houses? Or is that yet another relic we've lost to time? I don't like cooking anymore. Not like I used to, anyways. The whole left side thing makes it difficult and I don't like fighting with my body to try to make it do what I want. And I don't like cooking for just myself and then eating leftovers for the next week. And when I do that, the people I eat lunch with at work like to make fun of what I'm eating because they eat out four days a week and I'm "too skinny" and need to learn to "loosen up". That shit irks me to no end, but I bite my tongue whenever they talk about not having enough money toward the end of a pay period or talk about how no one wants to date them because there's an obvious solution right there to both those problems. My favorite, though, was when one actually had a date and the dude was coming over, "Oh, are you going to cook for him?" Laugh, "I don't even cook for myself! No guy is worth cooking for!" I think maybe my priorities in dating are completely fucked and reverse of what they should be. Maybe I'm better off not dating anyone. That's a tough pill to swallow, though.I like having someone around to talk to about everyday shit so I can have an outside opinion on things. Am I just looking for a friend, not a date? Shit, I don't know. Right now, at this moment on a late Sunday morning that's fucking cold, I'm just looking for someone who craves good biscuits and gravy every weekend as much as I do. I've tried my hand at it myself, but I can't get the biscuits right, all light and fluffy and layered and buttery like a good southern biscuit is supposed to be. And the gravy? Shit! Sausage spicy with a hit of pepper at the end and a good cup of black coffee to wash it down. That's all I want right now.

said Tommy T. at 11:30 AM - #

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