!POSITIVO!
EvR0ck2023–01–07 11:22am , Lower East Side, New York City
Oh, yes, hello, while the coffee is working and i’m riding my daily energy wave let me get to typing away. Since it’s my birthday i’ll do what i like to do, which is typing rhythmically with the music on my headphones (today its Dr.John) , and seeing what comes out. Yesterday my typing led me into some things that were way over my head, and maybe took a wrong turn, i hope i can do something with that mess some day, but not today. today is the customary birthday post, really only the 2nd one, since I’ve only been writing since July 2021.
I really don’t like Facebook, but i like Facebook memories, and it reminded me of my last birthday post, which i shared on my story. it was really sad, as i had been stabbed by my morbidly obese, psychotic roommate, just one or 2 days prior, and i was trying to raise money for my pretty prolific crack and heroin habit, which i was doing with the guy who my roommate let take over our living room…to smoke crack and heroin. I don’t think i was even generating stories that were worthy of donations, i was just digitally doing what i did at at Penn station when i was homeless, except at least at Penn station i was singing songs. The shitty junkie living room guy is a shitbag, i think he was the reason that all of my valubles (nintendo switch, laptop, projector) were gone when i got back from a rehab stint in the fall of 2021. He thinks he’s a rapper, and his shitty rap name is Vincent Chase, and dont go listen to him on spotify, his music sucks, and he sucks. It’s funny that he thought that you cant overdose by smoking fentanyl laced heroin off of tin foil, which is absolutely not medically accurate. i still catch myself hoping that A) my stabbing roomate died of a heart attack from being 450 pounds and devoid of any kind of healthy behavior, and B) that V. Chase overdosed and died somewhere in the shitty part of flatbush, brooklyn that he frequents. I think about people that live here in one of NYC’s 5 boros , the greatest city i’ve ever been to, that can go anywhere and experience so many cool things, but they stay in a 3 block radius in shitty East Flatbush, Brooklyn, between the Q train stops of Church Ave and Beverly road. I guess that i must still be pretty fucked up from what happened there, if i’m wishing people would die, that really isn’t my style. Hopefully i’ll learn to forgive those two, but as of today i am not there yet.
I will link the 2025 regent place story:
Now, just hold on… this is not going to be a bummer of a birthday post. My life is not a bummer.
This post is shaping up to be about about the difference a year makes, a really big difference. I may still be without money, and fundraising online, but i believe i’m generating worthy content. There’s no stab wounds, no drugs, no shitty wannabe rapper junk boxes. I’m in the lower east side of Manhattan instead of the ghetto of east flatbush, where crack and dope was sold everywhere, and my neighbors were shooting each other fairly regularly.
I’m pretty joyful most of the time lately, i’m happy with who i am, happy with where i am, and happy with the work i’m getting out there. The joys weigh more than the challenges, and keeping sight of gratitude gets me through the unevenness of my mood and energy. I think i feel the most comfortable in my skin that i ever have, comfortable with being weird, intelligent and artistic. I have let go of a lot of toxic shame and self hatred, and I've realized that i’m very much an individual with things to contribute to the stream of life. I've said this before, but i really don’t compare myself to more people who are considered more successful in the eyes of society. Sure, they do things that I cant do, but i do things that they cant do. self love, what more could someone want for their birthday?
I’m not at all salty about being in a place with a structure i have to follow, and other powers calling many of the shots for me, after all: calling my own shots didnt’ go very well, in any sense of the term. Something something about acceptance being the answer to my problems, i dont know, its in the AA book.
I’ve been working on a few things for a future i can live with: my supportive housing application is in (this time without a roomate), and i start an IT vocational course on wed. it’s been hard to get identification, but i think that whole fuck shit will be over on monday. I have complied a pretty compelling social security disability case (after all i have been debilitated by my mental illness for long periods of time), though i’d probably take on a little part time gig even if i did get paid for being a mental case. i was thinking some kind of nice hipster coffee spot, or maybe something to help homeless people. I Just really want the basics, so that i can write and persue my creative whims comfortably.
If me being happy makes you happy, be happy, cause i’m pretty happy. happy motherfuckin birthday to me, ya heard? thats how you say that sentence in the language of the native New Yorker, i wanted to try out the dialect.
there are the 3 dots, which means one thing: we have reached the fundraising part of the blog post…
yes, Facebook asked me what charity i want people to donate to for my birthday, and if i didn't have a net worth of 11$ i would have said the suicide prevention thing, or Chris Soucie’s heart attack fundme . But here’s the thing, my charity is me! Fuck man, I gotta do what i can do to get what i can get, its not like i’m built to dig holes or something.
“everybody wanna be a king for days, everybody wanna get rich right away” — Dr. John
