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Last night, some funny shit went down.

I settled into my temporary pad in South Austin, where I have most generously been allowed to stay while my friend goes north for a wedding this weekend.

I get a call from a friend of mine, who is hanging out and drinking with a guy I used to work with - let's just say, I don't like Workboy. He's pissed me off a few different times, and I think he's kind of an idiot and sketchy to say the least. My friend Stacey says, 'You should come over...here, Workboy wants to talk to you...'

Great, I think. WB hops on the horn and demands that I come up North and hang with them, since he's moving soon and we've never gotten to hang out. I made various protests, but finally gave in because...am I a doormat? Fuck!

I proceeded to call my friend back, leave her a monologue of a message telling her that I don't appreciate her telling him I don't like him, since obviously that's what she did and obviously his attempt to get me to come down there is to force me to re-like him.

I call back her girlfriend and WB answers the phone. "I'm not coming," I say. "All I do is drive north, come back south, drive north, come back south, ad infinitum! I feel like chilling out and I actually can, so I'm fucking going to. Sorry."

The evening went on...my friend told me about the little dog hanging with us and how it shat out its own rectum. I don't think I've ever laughed so hard.

I got a text message from my friend this morning: 'WB thinks you're hot and wanted to get with you. That's why we were trying to force you to come over.'

The weird thing is, usually when I dislike someone, I secretly or not-so-secretly want to do them. But this guy is just sketch and not really cute. So....NON.

updatables ahoy!

I have been wanting to update for some time.

Obviously, I am now an emotionally destructive blogger, who HAS to check the fuck out of blogville for a good two or three months, tearing a new arsehole in exciting sub-cities of existence like Silencio, Inexpressiveburg and Secretown.

But I'm back. Who knows for how long?

Leading anecdote? Today, I stood behind one of my myspace favorites at Torchy's. Such a deliciously odd feeling...recognizing someone you don't know and have never met, but you've 'seen' them in the most pseudo-sighted manner imaginable. Did I feel him reciprocally recognizing me, or did I just want to? The weirdest thing about this dude is that he really is a clone of Nate Fisher, who I don't really have a history of thinking is tremendously hot, but for some reason, I find his real-world clone crazy hot.

With little to no regard for structure, let us move on to the current state of affairs. I have tossed the dice on my life and future once again - I am moving into my own place on the other side of Austin. It will change...everything. I hope. Because I do not really know how I became the rambunctious rambler I am today. Perpetually outbound, ne'er-to-be-found (at home), constantly over-wound. I want to be able to know stillness and solitude and all the good things that add balance to one's life - other wise I am just a manic case constantly waiting to crash.

I'm very excited about the change. And I was reluctant at first, as I have been constantly living under the pre-developed roofs of others, so I was not really ever required to have much in the way of 'furniture' or 'kitchen essentials' or 'ANYTHING.' So, while that's great for fitting my entire life into a car, it doesn't really make for...much of an actual life. Outside of a car.

Also, I can't really afford this new place. But I COULD afford to learn some budgeting skills. Anyone wanna teach me how ta hawk d-rugs and/or apply for food stamps? I expect both should come fairly naturally.

Because of the expense of this move, I was not able to 'fuck you, fuck you, you're cool,' style quit my job as soon as I realized the offer they had made me was completely insulting. Especially since the first salary figure on the table was technically less than what I make now. I wish I had quit, slapped faces and high fives as appropriate and walked out and really cast myself to the four winds. But I would probably die. And by die, I mean have to move back in with my parents, which is like dying and going directly to hell without a trial and/or passing go whatsoever.

So I stayed. I stayed when I should have screamed, broken things or ran out the door. But these are the things we do to survive, eh? I feel like life is a constant prostitution, and one has to compete against people willing to do scatplay, DVDA and/or group necrophilia - so you have to really humiliate your fucking self just to make it. Fuck meta-whores! Why can't they think about how their nastiness just makes it harder for the rest of us to be lesser-dirty whores?!

And finally, I am couch-surfing. From the start of this month to the tenth...and I have been really lucky to have a lot of people willing to put me up. But let's just say I'll be glad when it's over. And it could mean I retreat even more deeply into my solitude.

That's all for now - hopefully the scene-change will also render me capable of cohesive blog-writing.