I haven’t written because I’ve decided to be a useless loaf. That’s right. No self-improvement whatsoever. I’m not going to exercise, eat right, quit smoking, or occupy my time with anything other than videogames. No reading, writing, or arithmetic. I’m just going to sit around doing whatever I want, all of the time. I’ve decided this because it’s easy and I suck.
A lot of people would hate me for that . . . I’ve detailed several excuses why I don’t wish to accomplish anything in my previous entry. The only question remaining is, why am I even writing in this Journal? Were God to dispense rightful justice upon me, I would die painfully and then suffer an eternity of complete obscurity, with not even my name remembered by humanity’s collective awareness. But I’m taking my thoughts down on paper, ostensibly with the idea that they will outlast me. Why? The answer: I saw a guy’s journal today written from when he was twelve years old. He was able to take the entries and elaborate on them, looking up specific episodes of Magnum P.I. that he had watched, playing arcade games he tried out for the first time in his emulator. I would like to do that one day. And further, I would like to more accurately remember events of my past. I used to be able to do that, back when I had my own journal I’d kept from the age of 9 or so. But no longer. I decided I wanted to be able to do that in the future.
So, let me briefly detail what life is like in my world. I live in a small box. It is made of concrete block and serves as an apartment. The apartment was built over a garage, I’m told, so that the devout Xtian couple who lived here could provide room and board to abused or abandoned women as they worked their way into the good Lord’s will. That immediately makes me think that the rent might have been paid with something other than money if you catch my drift. With a penis thrusting into a vagina, if you understand my meaning. But I’m a scornful piece of garbage for thinking that. The old man who built the apartment apparently had only the best of intentions.
This worked well for awhile until one of the women he rented the apartment to brought in a lover to live with her. The old coot got crotchety. Tried to have her evicted. She refused to leave. The lawyers told him that legally, he couldn’t evict a boarder for moral or religious reasons. So after that, the rule became that only married couples could live here. Which just goes to show, penises thrusting into vaginas is never a problem so long as you have a legal certificate saying it’s okay.
Eventually the married couple living here turned out to be Racquelle, graduate of Saint Academy (my alma mater) and Jeremiah, graduate of Holiness Academy and brother to Delbert, a close friend of mine. I was living with my brother at the time and wanted to get out due to the preponderance of cheap floozies he was bringing around the house. I’m much like the old man above in that respect. They always look at me funny and my interactions with them usually consist of awkward silences as I imagine my brother’s penis repeatedly thrusting into their vaginas. So anyway I was leaving. I tasked Delbert with fiding us an apartment, as I wished to move back to [REDACTED]. He suggested this place because the rent was only $250. The lady didn’t even want to rent to us at all, but eventually came around, and decided to charge us $100 more per month because we’re not a married couple. So basically, instead of a decent apartment we could have had for $350 a month, we have a shitty garage apartment far to the west of town that has no insulation and no central air. Way to go, Delbert.
My days are very peaceful and uneventful. I sleep a lot. I eat a lot of bad food, like frozen pizzas and burritos. I put on weight. (Around 270 now.) When I’m not asleep, I’m playing through a carefully crafted list of videogames I want to beat (sometimes for the second or third time) before I die. When I’m not doing that, I’m playing old emulated games from the 80’s, arcade games and NES games mostly. When I’m not doing that, I’m playing World of Warcraft with Delbert. When I’m not doing that, I’m hanging out with him, shooting the shit about anything that comes to mind, which is primarily religion and politics. He’s gone right now. Out trying to get a job.
The place is perpetually messy. Right now the floor is filled with empties, Pepsi bottles and cigarette packs, as well as piles of unused pizza coupons and direct mail advertisements. The sink is full of dishes that haven’t been washed in weeks because we won’t buy anymore detergent. Which reminds me, we’re almost out of toilet paper. . . . I’m out of money. I guess I’ll have to borrow some off somebody so I can get some toilet paper and dish detergent. The fact that our phone has been out for three days makes it difficult to do this. I think I’ve made your stomach turn enough for now. I’m getting rather bored of writing this. If I return, I will be in the mood to fondly describe other aspects of my daily life, as well as intersperse them with nostalgic rememberings of the past.