Fruits of Procrastination

So. I haven't posted anything in a week, but I plan on making this my main online hobby for the next few weeks. Expect many more updates, some of which may accidentally be relevant or interesting.

Losing my flashdrive took a lot out of me. That sounds dramatic and stupid more than anything, but realizing that everything I had done in past four years was gone really kicked the shit out of me. Of course, this is only worsened by the fact that I know it's completely my own fault for not having another back up source.

So: I am extraordinarily behind on my Second Life project, my blog, the wiki, everything really. I will be working hard to fix this over the next few weeks.

I managed to spend about three times more than I should have this weekend. I'm not sure what to blame this on, considering almost everyone I know went home for the weekend. However, good news: I have a Rocky Patel Vintage 1990 and a nice Gurkha sitting in the humidor. I would have enjoyed an Acid Liquid on Sunday, but Raymond very prudently decided to drop it off the porch and split the wrapper.

Pretty disappointing.

Fonseca

I have a Fonseca Vintage sitting in my humidor. It’s the nicest smelling cigar I’ve ever had. But I also have a throat and chest cold. So I’m sitting on the porch with nothing between me and them. There’s nothing but the cool air in front of the porch and the brim of my green hat. It says Kiss Me I’m Irish and I stole it from some girl on St. Patrick’s day who was not, in fact, Irish.

I’ve been sitting here for twenty minutes or so when a girl starts to walk by. She’s wearing a blue hoodie and tight jeans. She has long legs and a thin stomach and I am stunned by my own reaction.

Wow, I’d hold her hand in public
I would ask that girl how her day went
I’d like to buy her a flower

But I don’t stare because I am not in the mood to look like some creep sitting on his stoop. So I glance up at the black sky and lean into the railing. But then she says something. I don’t hear her so I say:

- I’m sorry?
- That cat! I like to talk to that cat.

I lean over and look back at my house. Up on the third floor, where SwimFox lives, there is a cat sitting in the window. He is skinny and black.

- Yeah he’s pretty neat, he sits there a lot, I say back
- Yup!
- There’s another one across the street. Sometimes they stare at each other.
- That’s kinda weird. Cya!
- Yeah, have a good one.

And she keeps walking. It suddenly occurs to me that for no reason this girl had started a conversation with me, and I failed dramatically to be interesting. I am the boy who watches his feet for cracks in the pavement like a Radiohead song. I look at her back as she crosses the street and think she’s the only good thing I’ve seen in days.

Nosebleed

My music tastes have become even more narrow than usual. For the past two weeks I really haven't listened to anything other than Deftones, Thrice, and Portishead. There are two reasons for this: my iPod needs new batteries and refuses to turn on, and YouTube has an enormous amount of live Deftones videos. Nosebleed is probably their best live song from before White Pony (when Chino destroyed his voice). It's frustrating that their best recorded material came after he lost his voice. But at least we got Team Sleep out of it.

Anyway.

I finished the cigar journal. It was very unimpressive. Actually, everything I've written this semester has been thoroughly mediocre. I feel as though I was really making a lot of ground last year with my prose and ideas, and something destroyed it over the summer. Of course, I'm not making some stupid new age claim that I have a need for divine inspiration, but I have always had trouble working with tight schedules unless I am also in a creative peak.

I'm two weeks behind in Second Life and have effectively fucked myself.