50/50

I can't think of anything so important to me anytime in my past when I was this perfectly 50/50 on it. If I keep it, half of me will be exuberant. If I lose it, half of me will extraordinarily relieved.

This is the weirdest trip of my life.

Everyone Thinks I'm Suicidal When I Shave My Beard, Exercise And Eat Right

Typically, when someone observes their friend as having "let himself go," it's usually because they're eating crap food and not exercising, and maybe they've grown a beard. And the friends all think that the guy is depressed or just giving up or something.

However, everyone becomes concerned about me when I'm clean-shaven, eating right and exercising.

"Dude! Jake! You shaved your beard!"

"Yeah, I decided it was time to try a cleaner look."

"And it seems like you're in better shape."

"Well, I've been playing basketball and doing little exercises at home every day. Also, I haven't eaten fast food in two months and I'm trying to cut way back on junk food."

"Oh, ok. I see...Jake, I have to ask, is everything ok? Is something wrong?"

It's all very peculiar.

I Am Not...Myself?

I have never felt less like myself than today. There's an intense ringing in my left ear from seeing a friend's band last night at the Doll Hut. What it does to your whole equilibrium is no joke. I just feel...off. I went to a coffee shop to write and I was just typing conversations like I had a mild concussion. I didn't sleep much last night and I'm full from breakfast. Also, the whole uncomfortable shrug of a relationship right now isn't helping.

I'm just going to read and hope I wake up a decade.

The Worst Conversation

"I don't think this is going very well," said the pessimist.

There was a long pause.

"Yeah, you're totally fucked," said the other one.

Since I Have Returned To California...

Friday Night: Have pizza and soda with my family. Don't go to sleep until 4 a.m.

Saturday Night: Meet up with friends. Have potato tacos, rice, beans, chips and salsa, soda and beer before midnight, and then a bag of candy and cheese bread around 3 a.m. Stay awake until 8 a.m. when I have seven slices of pizza and another bag of candy. Fall asleep at 10 a.m.

Sunday Night: Meet up with friends. Have whiskey, beer, soda, a grilled cheese, soup, fries, chips and cheese dip and two seven and sevens. Don't go to sleep until 6 a.m.

Monday Night: Meet up with friends. Have pizza and beer. Come home and have the worst talk with my girlfriend ever. Sorta maybe kinda break up.

Tuesday: No appetite. Hang out at the library all day.

"Bleh," said the degenerate, once again at a crossroads.

I Don't Know About Albatrosses...

Albatrosses are fucking stupid.

Spanish Men Are Sexy Motherfuckers, But Motherfuckers Nonetheless

I just saw the following picture of Antonio Bandares on his Wikipedia page.



Apparently, this motherfucker is a singer too. Yes, Antonio Bandares can sing. Beautifully, I guess. For some reason, my immediate reaction was "Oh, fuck you, you son of a bitch. Acting wasn't good enough?"

And then my reaction was "Oh, well, of course he's a singer. He's from Spain."

And then came the gigantic realization that I think all attractive men from Spain can sing. I don't know when exactly I started thinking that, but I'm quite sure now that all beautiful Spanish men can sing wonderfully.

Fuck, they're probably great lovers too. I mean, right? I don't know. I just look at them and I'm almost positive that they could please my girlfriend better than I ever could even dream (even without her Spanish fetish).

I bet a 13-year-old Spanish boy could please a supermodel better with his first boner than a twentysomething white guy can on his best night. The most charming twentysomething American guy would still flail and flop like a fish out of water compared to a Spanish boy's first go at pussy.

I don't know if it's science, but as soon as Spanish boys hit puberty, I feel like they suddenly understand the female body better than I ever could hope. They would know about mythical things or things they made-up (which turn into magic realism), like, "the rear orgasm" or something.

For sure. A fuckin' kid from Spain and I would be hanging out drinking Sangria and some hot bitch would walk by and just tell me I was a loser because I was sitting next to this suave Spanish boy, who would be fascinated and obsessed with the first wiggle in his new ballsack. But she would still sit next to him and ask what he was doing later. Then, he'd ask to see her ass.

"Sure thing, anything for you, little man," the woman in the tight maroon dress would say.

"What the fuck is happening?" I would say, bewildered.

"Here, I show you," that fucking kid would whisper to me. And then, to my unending suprise, he would pull back the girl's buttcheeks and show me a clit right above her anus.

"What the hell? I didn't even know there was a second clit hidden there!" I would exclaim in the bar.

"Yes, yes, I know. I figured you wouldn't have...ah...how do you say...heard of it. But do not worry, my friend, I will help you," the smug son of a bitch would say.

The girl, pulling her dress back down to cover her gorgeous rump would turn to him and ask, "Can you sing?"

"But of course," he would say with a shrug. And then he'd sing a ballad while having sex with every hot girl in the bar. I'm sure of it.

And he would do it all with his first real dick.

God, I kinda fucking hate Spanish men now. What a bunch of sexy douchebags.

18,520 Words Into My Novel So Far

CHAPTER 01: 629 words
CHAPTER 02: 2,772 words
CHAPTER 03: 2,181 words
CHAPTER 04: 2,074 words
CHAPTER 05: 2,430 words
CHAPTER 06: 3,342 words
CHAPTER 07: 1,445 words
CHAPTER 08: 3,387 words
CHAPTER 09: 2,573 words
CHAPTER 10: in progress

Gay Clubs

I went to a gay club tonight.

It had a lot of colorful lights, colorful characters and colorful dancing. I was quite sweaty after an hour. I don't know if I impressed anyone, but damn, it was fun.

I still don't know what you want me to say.

Lesbian Bars

I went to a lesbian bar tonight.

I don't know what else you want me to say.