It’s early morning I should be ready to go. I should be ready to get on my Four Corners Marin gravel bike, with a Burley COHO XC single wheeled bike trailer, two Orlieb saddlebags with a Topeak track bag all fully loaded. Little do I know at the time this is my first mistake of many. I packed my entire apartment into my bike and backpack. At least whatever was left after giving everything away. I thought at the time I would never return to the place I called home for twenty years so instead of being responsible and cleaning the apartment I visited my familiar places I loved: local bars, tourist sites and beaches. Now it was time for some adulting and house cleaning. By two in the afternoon I was done cleaning and ready to ride my untested weighed down bike.
The first challenge after take off was steering. Turns out having two full water bottles on each side of my handlebars made things quite wobbly. Immediate regret as I pedaled down Anastasia Boulevard heading to A1A Daytona beach. My typical speed would be eight miles per hour. It’s February first when this story begins so I’m bundled up, jacket and scarf weather. There are two feelings simultaneously battling out. I’m free, no job, no home, nothing tying me down. It never felt truer the words of Janis Joplin, “freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose” and at this moment I was truly free. The other feeling was: “what the fuck am I doing?”.
I had my Airbnb set up in Holly Hill, Daytona. The first step in the tour was getting there. It’s early afternoon then its sunset. My one rule from the planning stage was to be broken the first time. Don’t bike at night in unfamiliar areas. It would not be the last. When I made it to Flagler beach in was night time already and I stop for a burger and a beer. Here I locked my bike and trailer however I left my Mr. Bill doll in the Topeak bag fully visible to someone to steal. “Oh Noooo”. This mildly angered me but reminded me that people are assholes sometimes. I know this due to a career in customer service I just walked away from. After a good meal I pedaled and found myself in the eternal nothingness of Ormond by the Sea. Its a sidewalk I pedaled forever the ocean is blocked by sand dunes and you have no idea when this will end. However eventually it does and you finally see civilization.
The navigation on Google Maps shows I’m close. Exhausted but hopeful. Its mile 23 of a marathon. Finally I arrive to my first of many Airbnbs. The title of the rental was “Tropical Getaway” the hosts were from the Keys which was a sign I was on the right track. The room was converted from the garage and included a private entrance and a private bathroom. Also included a big screen TV in which I began my new addiction, Murderhouse Flip. It was bad TV in the best sense of the term. I was also able to catch The Weird Al Yankovich movie staring the Harry Potter kid. Sure this wasn’t what the trip was about. I could easily stay at my job and in my apartment and continue vegging out on the latest show to talk about at the watercooler. However vegging out was needed at the time. I biked fifty miles carrying my life on my back like a dung beetle. This was a lovely place to regroup and cut weight.
Did I really need a Franklin Covey Day Planner (in hindsight yes) not really? An extra notebook nope. How bout half the pages from my Road Atlas? Nope. Maybe a couple pounds gone. This would be a constant habit of my trip. Asking, “Do I really need this or is it weighing me down?” All the weight on my saddlebags and trailer made my rear tire bald and I had to rotate my tires in Tamiami weeks later.
After I left my lovely sanctuary in Holly Hill next was Port Orange to visit my uncle that offered a place for the weekend. He was going away for a concert. He’s the life of a party. The type of patron that is a regular at any bar he walks into. Anyhow as I was biking toward Port Orange I could see the ominous clouds rolling by and the wind pick up. Luckily that wind the Weather Channel warned me about was at my back. My bike would get it’s first baptism of the trip right before I arrived at the first open establishment.
Ten minutes to eleven First Turn, a Nascar themed bar, was just opening as the temperature dropped to fifty five and the rain came down heavy on the canopy of the outdoor bar and my Marin with waterproof bags to be tested. I called my uncle he says put the bartender on the phone because of course he knows the bartender. At First Turn I happen to be there while they record a radio show for a crowd of boomers that are nerding out over NASCAR. The show would stop for ads then when they started again someone held an applause so sign so I’m day drinking yelling “Woooo!” before someone asks a technical question about people driving in a circle that goes over my head. Then another. I watch these people sincerely query about pit crews and rule changes and it looked no different from people at a convention asking if the Gorn was a worthy adversary to Captain Kirk.
A few drinks in and the rain passed I got to my Uncle’s trailer in one of those over fifty-five communities. I would find more stuff to get rid of and prepare for the road ahead. At this point there was no turning back I left my job in good standing letting my boss know daily I was still alive. I left my apartment clean but could have done better. I didn’t burn any bridges but I was on an adventure and there was no turning back. My goal at this point was Mile marker 0, Key West.
It was a frigid snowy day in upstate New York. One could argue the Catskills aren’t upstate but the Hudson Valley region. The type of people that make people groan when they say, “but actually…”. For our purpose we’ll say upstate. I hugged my my foster parents and said goodbye. Visited family along the way and ended up in Saint Augustine.
After staying at a Super 8 Hotel off I95, depleting my savings, I thought to myself, “What have I done.” There was absolutely no planning involved and it was all a happy accident. Ewe, pronounced “Eva”, at the front desk told me her friends from from Poland were looking for a roommate. I went with it since at the time I was hemorrhaging money rapidly. I would sleep on a mattress in the living room and enjoy learning about Polish culture and food for a while as I worked day labor doing manual labor shoveling rubble at a construction site. After that I did temp work at a menu factory where they made the check books for restaurants. I learned that I can not work at any factory run by the bell system. Basically a bell goes off everyone goes on break then a bell goes off to tell you you have a minute to be at your station. Its mindless, repetitive, but also fast paced. However this job lead me back to the convenience store business. I applied at a Sprint Gas station connected to a bail bonds office.
Through this job I would find someone who would later be my roommate in a two bedroom apartment. Our love of the Clerks and everything Kevin Smith at the time would be something we’d have in common. In time I would transfer and move up to an Assistant Manager position. Eventually my roommate would go to the army and I would get promote to manager at a store I knew nothing about technologically. The store was never up graded to a modern (at the time) POS system. A separate gas console, separate credit card machine connected to the phone line and an antique Omron register. The hallway to the bathroom was both my office and storage area. Meanwhile when I took over construction was booming at a previous slow location. I worked eighty hours a week on salary believing I was paying my dues.
I got a girlfriend and she moved in and at the time I thought this is the American dream. Sure it wasn’t always perfect but it was home while it lasted. We had cats even though we weren’t allowed and when things fell apart; the landlord wanted to inspect the apartment so I had to move out before I got evicted.
I would move in with a friend out of desperation and no where else to go even though I knew of potential drama going in. I was now working at a different convenience store company that I would work at for almost fifteen years and a hotel as night security. I thought the night security job would be easy Netflix and chill (nothing sexual). Instead I found myself babysitting drunk entitled wedding guest that thought they were doing us a favor by being there to lower our Trip Advisor reviews. After moving into my own space I would quit the hotel and move onto bussing tables. No responsibility and I got paid to work out.
From This point and for the next seven years, I would get comfortable as an assistant manager and have a studio apartment. Everything was secure and comfy. I seriously could have lived like this for the next twenty years. It was all my safe space but now it’s over.
Like twenty years earlier, I decided to burn it down. Okay not really, I left everything on good terms. My job had been my home to me, I developed deep relationships with my coworkers over time. I left my apartment on good terms as well. I left knowing the doors were always open but with the intention to run away not only from these places and people but who I had become. I became a person that could be comfortable doing the same thing everyday for the rest of my life. A resident of an open air prison of my own design. Something had to change. So I quit my job, I moved my apartment into a gravel bike and bike trailer and I left it all behind. This was after twenty years away from home and here’s to the next twenty years.
From childhood on to adulthood we are told to do more and improve to be better than we were yesterday. In America we are propagandized with the idea of the American Dream and if you work hard you too can have the house and white picket fence and all the toys your neighbors the Jone’s have. We are sold this dream, this idea, a marketing tool if you like, to buy more stuff and have your job own you. There are so many highly successful miserable people in America that maybe the dream is actually a nightmare. Suicides rates and the divorce rates prove one thing. We aren’t happy. What is happiness?
Maybe happiness is lying on the couch after bong hits, eating ice cream, and watching mindless TV. Someone doing that isn’t causing any trouble. They aren’t crashing the economy or going on spree shootings. People with motivation do such things. Maybe America as a country needs to calm the fuck down. Sure sleeping in may hurt the energy drink business which has skyrocketed in the last twenty years. We need more naps and less appointments. In the simplest of terms we need to slack off.
I’m Tony Recluse and I am a slacker. I have been this way since I was a kid and I knew I could pass with a 65. This meant I could work my ass off in the fourth quarter to average 65 or more by the end of the year. Sure I enjoyed history and would have loved more social sciences. I looked at the point system as pointless. After I received a summer school diploma I was compelled to go to college by authority figures at the time. This was a mistake I wasn’t ready for college at the time. In hindsight I should’ve worked at the local factory out of high school and save money for a sabbatical internationally instead of buying a car and paying way too much on car insurance as eighteen years old do. That two fifty a month I could have saved. Especially since the piece of shit I drove was five hundred bucks. However I had to drive to college after spending a twelve years being a terrible student. Due to student loans I took a call from a military recruiter seriously. Maybe the Marine Corp wasn’t a good idea for a slacker like myself but one thing I did learn is that I could live a structured life with discipline. However that didn’t mean I wanted that life and I lasted four and a half weeks in boot camp. I came out worked convenience stores and multiple retail store that no longer exist.
There was a time I believed in the dream. I believed if I work eighty hours a week on salary I’d be paying my dues and things would get better however instead I got screwed and became bitter. Life would fall apart and I vowed never to play the game again. Instead what I have learned is that you have to make your own rules. I’ve minimized to renting a room, I ride a bike to work so I don’t have to pay extortion money to insurance companies, and I don’t need the promotion at work to survive.
As you work our way up the corporate ladder someone underneath will happily knock you off to take our spot. Its stressful everyday wondering if last months bad inventory will cost you your job. Now you need antidepressants and anti-anxiety medication because your mind can’t handle this because of course. No one can handle the pressure of losing everything they have built. Eventually you might get to retire and maybe the marriage survives but your health is depleted because those legal drugs prescribe will take their toll on you. Doctor’s bills go up and its time to take out a reverse mortgage to pay off any medical bills and downsize either way.
This will be a recurring segment on this blog about rebelling against the status quo and slaughtering the sacred cows of common sense. I’ll go over politics, religion, economics, and employment. It will cover all aspects of life with a contrarian point of view to pop culture. The slacker lifestyle isn’t for everyone but maybe it’s for you.
Up the stairs, into the fire
Yeah, up the stairs, into the fire
I need you near
But love and duty called you some place higher
Somewhere up the stairs, into the fire
May your strength give us strength
May your faith give us faith
May your hope give us hope
May your love give us love
Bruce Springsteen “Into the Fire”
In modern history time is broken down in two categories: before 9-11 and after 9-11. Exactly twenty years ago I was working in a printing factory in upstate New York (5:45am as I type). I was likely having a smoke break in the last hour and fifteen minutes left of work. The majority of my coworkers were blue collar white males. Next we had a large black black demographic mostly older Jamaicans and some of them were working two jobs. Now keep in mind this job was a twelve hour shift so I have no idea when they slept. There was also a large Pakistani population as well. Ramadan would complicate things as well since everyone of them would go to lunch at the same time. Mostly we didn’t give a shit about culture just do your fucking job. This is all background though.
I got home around 7:30am and would typically go into an excite dot com chatroom. This was before social media if friendster was a thing it wasn’t mainstream. A woman I’m chatting with says “It looks like a plane hit the World Trade Center” First stage I’m in denial and I think its a little Sesna plane. Then she says she’s got to go after she tells me a second plane hit. I log off and would never converse with her again. I go out to the living room and turn on the big box TV and sit in the recliner. In the other room, next to the television blaring the news report was a Pakistani couple that lived in my foster parents house. I had recently moved back home.
When I was living in Albany New York working at a coffee shop at the Airport and mall I would call home once a week. My foster mom would talk to this man struggle at the local gas station and I shit you not they told me she “got a sign from God” and decided to take him in and later his wife that moved here. I would relay this quote to the FBI when I was questioned.
So the Pakistani couple and I watched the horror on the news together. I know twenty years later its politically incorrect to say I was suspicious of them but I want to be honest. I was studying their reaction and they were just a horrified as me. I know in hindsight its on par with my Italian ancestors being looked at with suspicion based on anarchists and mobsters. Eventually I’d have to go to sleep and seeing the horror of people choosing between jumping to their death or burning to death. A choice no one should have to make. I’d watch the towers collapse. These towers I’d see every trip to NYC as the first clue you’re close in the skyline. I’d see the pentagon get hit but it was a blur. I had to be at work 7 pm so I went to sleep. Work would be intense in the environment I explained earlier. Sure the supervisors immediately talked about harassment policies and how it wouldn’t be tolerated. I stayed quite. But you can sense the rage in some of the people I worked with and fear in the others. I listened mostly knowing nothing about that side of the world. I remember a guy from California talking to me about US foreign policy but adding the caveat “this doesn’t justify it but…”
Our New York Times TV guides would have a white powder sprinkled on it to set the ink (I think that’s why) then the anthrax scare occurred. Someone joked in the break room, “I guess I won’t be receiving my cocaine in the mail anymore.” It was the first joke I heard in a month. So obviously no more powder. A recently married friend had invited many of us over for a Saturday Night Live party the second week it was back on. Sean William Scott was the host this had the sketch of Will Ferrell in American flag speedos in an office setting to show his patriotism. We started to laugh again and talk to our friends and neighbors. However I watched on the news as the drum beats for war began.
Meanwhile at home my foster father would tell our guests they are family to us but its in their best interest to leave maybe to Canada for their safety. Someone called the police on them I don’t know why but I was sitting on the recliner vegging out when they walk in quiet sad and depressed following by the State police, and multiple men in suits from the INS and FBI. I was questioned and told them what I knew included the fact that my foster mom a strict Catholic “got a sign from God”. The man would be detained without any legal rights since neither were citizens. His wife would be allowed to continue to live with us until things were dealt figured out. The basic rule according to custom I was not allowed in the same room as her if we were the only ones in the house and we worked around this since I slept during the day. Now further backstory. They were trying to have a baby for a while unsuccessfully. Luckily after he was released and they moved to Canada she would have her first child. My foster parents would maintain correspondence. It would take two days for an email to reach us which made us feel they being analyzed by people in government. We also would hear an occasional clicking sound in the phone but none of us were concerned. Anyhow the couple would build a family immediately after detainment and last I heard would doing good.
Nine eleven was the impossible happening. And no, random Facebook post I have not forgotten, I haven’t forgotten the fear, anger, and grief that traumatized a nation and much of the world. I haven’t forgot how we were manipulated into a war with countries that didn’t attack us when we were most vulnerable. I will never forget how our politicians ignored the first responders as their medical bills were piling up from breathing in the toxic air of ground zero as they worked tirelessly. No I won’t forget but I won’t used the event as an excuse to hate and reason to smear Muslims in our government and community. I won’t cheer on a war because someone used World Trade Center imagery to propagandize it. What we learned that day more than any other day is that tomorrow is not guaranteed and you have to live life know it could be your last.
Up until the age of twelve I lived my life as a vagabond or a gypsy. Home wasn’t a place as much as a state of mind. After my father died I bounce from different family members to different foster homes til I found one that put up with me. On this account I was lucky. Some find there way into group homes which become a gateway to permanent institutionalization. In high school I read On the Road by Jack Kerouac. Also read Into the Wild by John Krakauer a true story about the travels of Christopher McCandless (AKA Alexander Supertramp). Both books helped inspire me to travel with nothing and nothing to lose. By 2003, I had tried college, the military, retail and a stable factory job but I knew it wasn’t for me. I understood life is short learning that at a young age, then seeing people my age die and of course 9-11 being just over a hundred miles south of me. What if I stayed in the factory collect my overtime and benefits going to the local bar week after week without seeking adventure? Who knows maybe I’d be married with kids and a house, then divorced, losing the house after the factory’s closing and the housing market crashed. Maybe I would’ve eventually got caught up in America’s opioid epidemic that struck my hometown like many others throughout the country. Either way I knew I had to leave. The road was calling me.
No Plan, No Place, No Job.
“Freebird” on the Radio
In the printing factory between stacking advertising flyers I’d glance at the USA Today weather map and seen how warm Florida was in winter. Today I know Floridians don’t fear hurricanes, instead their dread lies in sub fifty degree weather. For months I fantasized about getting in my Jeep Wrangler and driving south. No job, no place and no plan; I would seek adventure. The first week in January of 2003, I quit my job, packed my my Jeep and drove south.
First stop was Freehold, New Jersey. I visited my uncle who at this point I only knew through family funerals. In conversations we talked about my father who was a stranger to me. It was definitely good to see that missing piece. I never knew my father’s side of the family and I was too young to know the who, why, what or where of what was going on after his death at the age of forty. I’m almost four years older than he was at his demise which is bizarre to contemplate. Anyhow after many drinks, the playoffs watching Michael Vick be spectacular before the dog fighting scandal broke, and meeting other family I never met. It was a good trip nowadays my uncle and I are polar opposites on the political spectrum but can always agree to sit down for a beer or many.
From Freehold to Norfolk, Virginia, I went over the Chesapeake Bay bridge which if you have any fear of drowning or tunnels you might want to avoid. It’s both scary and thrilling to be on a long stretch of road on the middle of the ocean. Then you’re in a tunnel twice. In Norfolk I met up with my brother. We enjoyed some drinks at Jillian’s which has since closed. It was a competitor to Dave and Busters that ended filing for Chapter 11. I got my car towed by parking in the wrong spot which I had not planned. Luckily I got my paperwork faxed from family to prove ownership. Other than that it was pleasant visit but now I was entering the great unknown.
I was headed for Florida. It’s warm down there, no snow and I could become a new person. I always felt I was a sidekick to my friends and this in hindsight was my own doing. At twenty-five I had no idea who I was. I was as lost internally as I was on the map. It was only appropriate I go without a plan. Possibly it was a passive suicide attempt. Then again staying where I was would only kill my spirit over an extended period of time.
It was late at night when I made it to Florida I 95. Signs appeared for St. Augustine, Florida and I fatefully took that exit. Here I booked a room at a Super 8 Hotel (or motel I’m not sure). An attractive Polish student was working the front desk that night and she was trusting enough to ask for a ride to her apartment. She directed me through the scenic route of downtown Saint Augustine and I instantly fell in love with this magical place. From late November until the end of January the entire town is lit up in what is called The Nights of Lights. Her friends need a roommate so I went with it.
For a while I would stay with students from Poland; in a way I was the tour guide of American culture answering peculiar questions about common vernacular. This was where my story began in Florida. Things went right and things fell apart in about twenty years as of 2023. Speaking of 2023, I’m due for a new adventure. This time there will be planning and and end goal. I do believe everyone should once in there life go out with no idea what they are doing just to see where the road will lead you. Leaving New York was one of the best decisions I made and anyone that truly feels stuck in life should consider a change of scenario and an opportunity to become a new person.
Recently I had Covid-19 or coronavirus whatever you want to call it but I won’t start there. Instead I’ll start from the beginning. In a way we all have had coronavirus for well over a year now. We saw news reports from China; then Europe exploded with the pandemic. In America we can’t say we weren’t warned because it was obvious with every day. In fact we had well over a month to get out shit together. America failed. I’m not blaming the president or the congress or the media specifically but as a whole our society failed. By March of 2020 covid-19 was already spreading throughout major cities New York being one. President Trump downplayed as if it was just a flu early on or he would use it to specifically demonize China which was red meat for the racists of his base. I’m not saying all Trump supporters are racist but if you were racist it was likely you were voting for Trump.
Being that there was little to no federal response New York’s Governor Cuomo decided to shut down travel to his state. In shutting down New York, Cuomo would set off a mass exodus throughout the country. If you watch YouTube during this time period you could see a mass quantity of people disperse throughout the country. Meanwhile in Florida we shutdown our bars and beaches and were advised to socially distance ourselves. People ignored warning because they watched news channels that downplayed the disease. It was a half measure People shopped at my job multiple times a day just to get out of the house. Now I love freedom but what I came to realize is sometimes the masses are too dumb to know what’s good for them. People were gathering and simultaneously the license plates on the cars at gas pumps were more frequently from out of state. It was Bike Week (I’m fifty miles north of Daytona) when we had our first confirmed covid case, a tourist from New York. It had begun.
At work we would wear gloves and masks. I had ordered mine early because I had planned on flying to New York in August to visit family. Within three months I would have three coworkers test positive for corona. Luckily for me I worked overnight and was out of range of the masses. I think it was May, New York announced travelers would have to quarantine two weeks when vacationing. I don’t know if the people that made the rule understand how vacations work. First vacations are only one week and I could just spend a week in a room without buying a fucking plane ticket. Needless to say I had to cancel my Airbnb and flight. I had two types of customers. One would ask why people aren’t wearing masks and sometimes would confront them or ask me what I was going to do about it. Luckily for me we were instructed not to enforce it. However I did have to deal with customers “forgetting” that we weren’t doing refills on coffee or fountain drinks. That was a fun unnecessary daily issue with people that ignored signs. The other type of person argued against wearing masks because of their freedom to be Covid Marys.
The media told us the death toll regularly while the president would handle it so bad he turned a politically rally in Tulsa, Oklahoma into a petri dish that would spread the disease to even former presidential candidate Herman Cain who would later die. Trump himself would also contract the disease because obviously they weren’t careful (great job). So Trump would lose mostly because of the poor handling to covid. The Democratic party was fully intent on proving anyone could beat Trump by propping up two time losing candidate Joe Biden.
Biden won and the vaccine was in production between three pharmaceutical corporations because nationalizing it would hurt any profit incentive. The deal was made under the Trump administration but as Biden is president the vaccine is being distributed. The media claimed mission accomplished its an end to covid. That’s funny because these articles came out while I was in quarantine.
On a Friday at work I was getting my ass kicked. Vendors, tourists, and now running fast food to compete with competitors. There was a point where I was lightheaded and lethargic. I’ve felt this before though, Almost fifteen years earlier working eighty hours a week on salary thinking I was paying dues. I said to myself the same thing I said then, ” Suck it up!” . It was rent week so I didn’t know what my health insurance would cover and I was still waiting on my not two thousand dollar stimulus ( fourteen hundred) and my tax return. That night I was coughing up chewy chunks while biking home. I would later see it was orange. Typically I get bronchitis around this time of year so I wasn’t concerned and I was needed at work. The Friday after I paid rent I got tested and Monday afternoon I got a link to an app that showed I was positive. Positively shocked!!!
After notifying my boss I was informed I would be out two weeks and then I’d have to get two consecutive negative tests before I could get back. First thought I was letting my coworkers down. The second thought was woohoo. No work. At this point I just had a cough similar to my bronchitis but that was it. I had time on my hands. I was getting my groceries and dinners delivered. The first couple days I would clean my apartment and do all my laundry. It was fantastic catching up on real life out side of work. I was loving life.
Yet at the same time it was lonely. The solitude is a feeling that your in purgatory. Your not living your best life but instead existing sleep to sleep. Sure I got some reading done, and changed my bike chain but I also took a good hard look at who I am. If my twenty year old self saw who I became he would first be surprised I didn’t die after thirty and then punch me for wasting so much time. Between coughing fits I’d argued with strangers online about the George Floyd case, Kyle Rittenhouse, pro-wrestling, and pop culture. Twitter is a dumpster fire in which the debates devolve to strawman fallacies and name calling. Instead of learning to play keyboard with my time I had to get the last word against someone that may have been paid to troll through K-Hive or MAGA.
I was lucky I didn’t die. Though I was more afraid of hospitalization than death. Could I afford to go to the hospital? I don’t know how much my insurance would cover. Also the effect on the brain the virus has was a fear of mine. A few weeks later I still have a slight cough when I talk extensively. After a month I plan to take the vaccine specifically to be able to fly to NY so I can visit family. Anyway I’m back to work now. We are still short staffed and struggling. Throughout this experience I learned I don’t want to be in purgatory til I die. There is more to life then clocking in for someone else and sleeping to be rested before going back to work again. Live your best life until it’s over.
Recently I stayed at a fancy hotel for a couples days. From the outside it looked lovely, beautiful architecture, valet parking expensive art etc. I’ve walked passed this place for close to twenty years. I looked it with curiosity like the narrator of The Great Gatsby in the exposition. Being a service industry prole I showed up with a full backpack paying with my prepaid credit card. I thought this would make me happy.
So I get up to the elevator which can only be activated by inserting my room key with the sound of Spanish Guitar playing lightly over the speakers. I enter the room and I have to say it was okay. For four hundred dollars in two days it was fine. There were other hotels I could’ve stayed at for cheaper but I’m reaching for the Air Jordans. To be fair you’re not just paying for the room. I had access to a country club, lounge and room service. Yes room service, growing up poor this sounded crazy. I can make a phone call and someone sends me food off at restaurant menu to my door. How dope is that.
It wasn’t the hotel’s fault but I wasn’t happy. It was a Nor’ Easter with thirty mile per hour winds and high tide was randomly flooding the streets. Also I was alone and that’s one thing but I felt lonely. Watching TV, hating what the culture has become with no one to share it with. Maybe it was a phone conversation that reminded me of this. Being alone I’ve embraced much of my life. Room service was awesome though. Like I said before I wasn’t happy which leads me to believe I wasn’t alone in this feeling. Maybe millions of people across the globe were in fancy hotels with all their whims catered to but still depressed. As I would look in from the outside finishing my job somewhere I’d think everyone is happy on the other side of those doors.
I look at the hotel facade as a metaphor for other aspects of life. It’s the Facebook profile of the happy family with the successful lifestyle. It’s the accomplishment of winning but not really getting what you need. It’s all bullshit. This may sound completely depressing at first but in a way its liberating. The lives of our heroes and people “living their best life” are just as sad as yours when you take a wrecking ball to the facade.
So to whoever reads this enjoy your life. Don’t strain yourself reaching for the Air Jordans when you’ll be just as comfy in a pair of sandals. If we are lucky we get eighty years. After that dead forever. So why worry about other peoples success when you could make this an amazing adventure.
There’s a feeling I’ve had lately as I go through my day to day experiences. You know, you do your routine going to work, meal and Netflix, tweet, sleep and repeat. Every day blends together in a three hundred and sixty five day year. Maybe it’s covid’s effect on society, or the shitty election, and having to cancel my vacation in New York. It’s a bad year all around. I’m feeling a reverse momentum of moving forward with my goals and dreams its NOMENTUM.
I’m certain I’m not alone here feeling nihilistic as I watch the news. What’s the point? Tell people to quarantine and its party time. Everyone needs a haircut or to go to the lake, prolonging the amount of time till we are can party again. How did I become the responsible adult? I’ll save my thoughts on that for another time. In the meantime it’s past the halfway point of 2020 and nothing is done. I’m not moving forward. It’s okay.
Consider 2020 a rebuilding year. As some of you stay home away from the world here’s some advice based off some of my wins and losses from the year.
- teach yourself a new skill or multiple new skills.
- read more
- workout
- decide who you want to be
- put in the work
Honestly I haven’t read as much as I should. I’ve gone through maybe three books this year. I bike everyday back and forth to work and occasion do yoga when my apartment is clean. However the one blessing throughout this pandemic is self discovery. Often we want to be who society tells us we are supposed to be because it’s success, or manliness, or cool but then you see people who have achieved all these things and they are miserable. Now is the best time to look within yourself and say “this is who I am”. Unless you want to harm others then maybe that’s the worst advice. For others though if this year has taught us anything its the fact that life can be short.
I’m typing this the day after actor Chadwick Boseman passed away from cancer. He was successful and he did what he loved. Just months older then myself he’s gone after a four year battle with cancer he kept private. Months ago Kobe Bryant just starting a new chapter in his life dies in a freak accident that also took his daughter and others. Then political commentator Michael Brooks dies from a random blood clot. Of course so many throughout the world are gone from Covid 19.
Its okay to have Nomentum. In these crazy time it’s best to tune out shut down, take a break and recharge. Then after removing yourself from the blanket burrito its time to work on your passion because the clock is still ticking.
After the George Floyd incident in Minnesota I stayed fairly quiet. This was within a week of the Ahmaud Arbery video being released. In both cases the media found reason to blame the victims. Floyd was said to have a violent history and drug use. Arbery was on video looking at a construction site. Neither cases are deserving of the death penalty. So after this and the death of Breonna Taylor a woman shot and killed in her home during a raid or as they call it a “no knock search warrant” for drugs that were never found in the residence. Another case was Christian Cooper in Central Park New York. He told a woman she’s supposed to have her dog on a leash. The woman in turn called the cops and said she was being threaten by a black man. He videoed the exchange but what this woman did was a death threat by proxy. This is why “Black Lives Matter” is in the news again.
When protesters say “Black Lives Matter” righwing pundits spin this as meaning only black lives matter and being racist. What it really means is the black lives also matter. Often we seen on the news white spree shooters carried away in handcuffs. We hear about school shooting victims as a major tragedy in middle America. Which it is, however the tragedies in the inner city for decades have been reported matter a factually. When I see George Floyd or Eric Garner I think how would the media react to a white collar criminally with a suit and tie maybe Bernie Madoff gasping, “I can’t breathe”. They would likely say the police have gone too far.
In all honesty I like cops. In my line of work I deal with them daily and we have a good relationship. They get drunk drivers off the road, talk jumpers off bridges and see some heinous shit. I respect good cops. The problem is when good cops enable bad cops by doing nothing and the culture that punishes those that call out their bad cop brothers. There needs to be an evolution from what we have. I don’t have any answers but I know what we have now isn’t working.
Do cop lives matter?
Simply put yes. Just as much as anyone else. On a side note, when I went skydiving I was told there was a chance I could die in a stern video before signing a waiver. That’s what cops do when they sign up. They are on the front line in the line of fire. I’ve heard there’s a mantra “Better to be judged by twelve than carried by six” which basically means its better to mistaking kill someone and be judged in court than be carried by six pall bearers for inaction. This is a dangerous mentality and the policeman’s union backs it up saying their top priority is that they go home to their family at the end of the day. Ideally I want cops to go home at the end of the day but I do not want them taking a chance killing someone because their brother and sisters in arms have their back.
The funny thing I see about the whole “cop lives matter” slogan is not one Republican said it when the Zadroga Bill and the 9-11 first responders bill was being pushed for the heroes of September eleventh that stayed behind risking their lives for others and develop cancer from exposure to chemical inhalation. In fact two Kentucky senators stood in the way while yearly reminding us “never forget” without seeing irony.
All Lives Matter?
This is my favorite though. Someone says “Black Lives Matter” then someone else says, “No All Lives Matter.” Okay let’s go with that premise. I like to believe all lives matter but I read history and I watch the news. Okay I used to watch the news. Under our current system people are dying from lack of health insurance because they ration their insulin. Did their lives matter? How bout the people in Yemen undergoing what the UN calls a genocide from Saudi Arabia do their lives matter? And when the next time a president either Red team or Blue decides to go to wars are the “All Lives Matter” people going to come to the anti war protest? All Lives Matter pardon the pun, has been just a cop out to avoid the issue being expressed.
I will close with this. Let’s make All Lives Matter. I mean everyone. Socialize healthcare so everyone can see a doctor without fear of more debt. End the war of drugs and treat the individuals. Don’t support genocides or wars based on false pretenses. Feed the homeless and get help to those that are suicidal. Also let’s make sure no one is killed because of a bad check or selling “loosies” by cops ever again because those lives mattered!
My earliest memories of politics on the news was the 1988 election. Joe Biden was running in the Democratic primary among Mike Dukakis, Jesse Jackson, Paul Simon, Dick Gephardt, Gary Hart, Pat Schroeder, Al Gore and Joe Biden. What I remember from that race was Paul Simon’s bowtie and him not being the guy with Chevy Chase on VH1. I remember Jesse Jackson’s popularity. There was talk and jokes about Gary Hart sleeping around. This I recall from Mad magazine at the time. Al Gore would drop out early due to lack of name recognition. Mike Dukakis would run a losing campaign to George Bush Sr. It was a slaughter Lee Atwater would orchestrate the demolition of Dukakis’ character ad after ad. Before all this my mother’s favorite Joe Biden was force to drop out.
Joe Biden had done a speech that later came out as plagiarized a speech by a British politician. Also it came back that he lied about much of his past including involvement in the civil rights movement. Also some discrepancies in his educational background. So before the primaries began Joe Biden stepped down from the race. Joe would continue his career in the senate for many years to come. In that time a scandal would come up for a potential supreme court justice. Clarence Thomas was a choice of George Bush for the Supreme Court. Thomas had sexual harassment charges against him. Biden proceeded over the hearing and many complain of his work here. There’s fair criticism to be make. I’m not going to go there. It was a different time.
Fast forward 2003 George Bush Jr. is pushing for a war with Iraq. I’m watching and thinking “why?” Isn’t Bin Laden in Afghanistan? won’t this divert attention from that goal. I never bought the weapons of mass destruction story. Its not the best reasoning to be honest but I watched as France and Germany agreed thank the war was a terrible idea. Being a history major I knew one thing. France and Germany historically don’t agree on anything. Joe Biden didn’t just vote for the Iraq War he enthusiastically supported the war. There were many more Democrats like Biden pushing for the invasion alongside their Republican peers in bipartisan unity. In 2004 we had an election between two candidates in favor of continuing the war and I stayed home the first time since I was legally able to vote. However I probably would’ve voted for Nader again.
So 2007 Joe Biden runs for president again. He runs against Barack Obama, Hillary Clinton, Dennis Kucinich, Mike Gravel, and ten other opponents. I didn’t notice it at the time but the media didn’t handle Kucinich and Gravel equally to the other candidates that were more comfortable with the military industiral complex. Biden would drop out early in the race.
After it was decided who the nominee was Barack Obama chose Joe Biden as his running mate. Biden made Obama look safe for middle America in a when Fox “news” would regularly dog whistle racist tropes or infer he may be a terrorist. I voted for Obama. Biden was a compromise for me. Like “oh alright”. So they win the election and we have eight years of Obama and Biden. The wars continue, the patriot act quietly expands through the prism program, the NDAA is passed eroding more freedom. Also they don’t replace Scalia immediately giving the Republicans and extra Supreme court pick.
For the 2020 election Joe Biden gives another run at the presidency. On the plus he can claim Whitehouse experience. However on the negative this is not the same Joe we’ve known for decades. This is Muhamad Ali boxing in the eighties past his prime. When confronted on the campaign trail he would tell voters to vote for someone else. In a debate question about how his views on race have evolved he rambled incoherently about how parents should “play the record player so kids could hear words”. That was the red flag for me. This guy should not be the one to face Trump head to head. Out of twenty candidate fifteen I would’ve voted for. some reluctantly. Biden was one of the worst case scenarios with Mike Bloomberg.
The goal became obvious as the slogan “vote blue no matter who became more prevalent. Anyone but Trump was push until the day after the Nevada caucus. Bernie Sanders had officially had a good lead. The media took the gloves off and attacked Bernie with vitriol. Joy Reid asked passionately, “whats the DNC going to do about this?” She would also use a “body language expert” to attack him with pseudoscience. Chris Matthew spoke of a dystopian future that included executions in Central Park if Bernie won.
Joe Biden had all his chips in South Carolina and won it as expected by anyone paying attention. The media declared it “Joementum” as if it was a surprise comeback. Then the night before Super Tuesday all the corporate democrats dropped out and endorsed Joe. Biden would go on to, for all intents and purposes, get the nomination. During this time rape allegations would come out. I don’t know where I stand on the allegation but I am disgusted by the hypocrisy of those that have used such allegations in the past as a political weapon now are finding ways to discredit the victim in ways such as character assassination and gaslighting. In my heart I always felt I was a Democrat but the part left me.
I won’t vote for Joe Biden. His stand on the Iraq War disqualified him long ago. Today watching him speak (no its not a stutter) I know something is wrong. His stand on marijuana is trenched in “gateway drug” mythology from the Reagan era. His willingness to put social security on the table if austerity is pushed from the right makes him useless. Sure people will bring up the Supreme Court and to that I say get a better candidate. At least he’s not Trump, okay well get someone that can get my vote. This entitlement to votes attitude is how we continue to lose.
This isn’t personal for me. Joe Biden has not had an easy life. His biography is often tragic but that doesn’t give him a pass on policies that will affect the lives of millions of people. If the Democratic party continues on this track Donald Trump will be re-elected. When that happens the strategist that failed again will keep their jobs as will the pundits and opinion columnist that are professionally wrong. These millionaires will keep their Trump tax breaks while claiming to be apart of a resistance as they attack the most vulnerable for no bending the knee to the establishment.