I get extremely frustrated with my own stupidity sometimes.
In my experience, when you exit a Steemit draft, it tends to reappear in your "Create Post" window when you hop back on, no? I guess it's not really something I should rely on at all. Anyways, I had started writing my second post in my Blog that Dreaded Sundown series and, well, lost everything. It happened a few days ago, it was extremely frustrating; but I've accepted it as fate and have started to rewrite the post. It is going to be very long as it is about one of the absolute weirdest and most interesting serial killers thus far, and possibly ever. It also is requiring a lot more research than I had anticipated. But that's ok.
Given all that, and the plethora of other things I have to take care of in the real world, it's going to be a few days before I can hammer that out. But it will be worth it! At least to me, haha. But, I wanted to write something else to be present on Steemit. I've found myself wanting to write posts like these more and more as I feel it's better for interaction here on the platform. Like, I can spend the next 24 hours writing about a murderer and come out with something I'm really proud of; but I want to have more of a personable presence on here as I make friends.
Six Pack
Thus, this idea was born. I don't have anything in particular I want to write about. But sometimes I like to just write about nothing, for no reason, and see where it goes. I was doing research on my afore-mentioned post and was thinking "man, I'd really like to actually be on Steemit right now"; and just then my friend Maddie walked through my front door with a 12 pack of weird beer she got for free from work and asked if I wanted to drink them while she edited weird footage(lol). As I was telling her what I was doing, the idea to simply just make a free write while I drink my half of the beers came to me.
So that's what this is. It's me drinking a six pack and writing as I do it. About nothing. Maybe it will be entertaining; or maybe it will be trash. But, I've opened the first beer so here we go.
Beer number 1
The other day I bought a pair of $7 shoes from a really odd store. I also was waiting for a bus for 30 minutes afterwards, and started painting on them. Then, as I was still bored, and still waiting for the bus, I went across the road and bought a seltzer. Some "greeter" guy, or whatever you want to call him, upon asking to see my receipt, refused to believe that I rejected the need for the piece of paper that proved I owned bubbling water in an aluminum can; and brought me all the way back to the register simply so the cashier could give him a shitty look and say "yeah, he paid for it". The guy was really embarrassed which was fun but it still left me feeling pretty profiled and pissed off.
And then of course I missed my bus. By seconds. Because of that guy. Maybe that's why I didn't really get enjoyment out of his embarrassment. Also, they don't allow my dog on the bus, so that meant another half hour he would have to be alone.
Recently, I had found out a long-time friend of mine had started a hemp farm. He asked me a few weeks ago if I'd like to help him with his operations but due to weather problems etc. it wasn't until yesterday that I actually made it out there. We did the "big plant" in his new 10.3 acre field, planting over 14,000 plants between six people(seven including the tractor driver) in 13 hours. It. was. exhausting.
Somewhere around 3 months ago I broke my ankle snowboarding. It's been a very long and weird recovery phase but I thought I was really getting somewhere, despite the fact the thing still looks like Raiden chewed on it for an hour. Yesterday proved me wrong. The method we were using was pretty traditional farming stuff; guy driving a tractor that punches holes in 3 rows of tarp, three guys sitting on the back of the tractor throw the plant in, and three guys follow to coerce them roots. Now, I'm not like a crazy athletic person. At all. But I genuinely enjoy physically pushing myself and the relief I get from exercise. I also have a really weird amount of physical stamina and can keep going long past I really should be able to. So, I spent the first part of the day following the tractor. Everyone else was swapping out, but my larger(cough cough) friend didn't look like he wanted to do thousands of squats so I just let him stay on the tractor.
At around hour 8, I realized that this was a bad idea. My ankle's been doing really well; I've been skateboarding, running and occasionally hiking on it for over a month now without much trouble. But, the combination of the uneven ground, the thousands of squats, etc., I pushed my ankle to a point where it could no longer support my weight. Around mid afternoon, as I was trying to catch up to the tractor(their process was quite a bit faster than the walkers, as you can imagine); I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to make it down the row. Literally. I had to make sure I was stepping on perfectly level ground and keeping my weight directly above it as to not have it crumple. It didn't even really hurt, it just kinda felt like it wasn't there.
But I made it. And spent the majority of the rest of the day on the tractor. Chubs was having some troubs, but we were winding down and it wasn't quite as intense as it had been under the sun all day. At one point, our friend/owner of the land had to leave. When I asked where he was going he told me "my daughter got in a fight with a chicken so I have to go handle that. I'll try an' grab some laborers from town". If that wasn't the most New England answer I've ever heard, well, I don't really know.
I wish I had taken more pictures, but as I tried to send this one to 
On that note, though, I'd like to briefly mention
I wish I knew more Steemians in real life; or, rather, I wish the people I knew in real life would become Steemians. But then that creates a paradox for myself. I'm not by any means embarrassed about the things that I write about but for some reason I'm not so sure I want my friends reading it all the time. Or maybe they would like it; I don't know. It's just that my thoughts I put here and much different than the way I carry myself in day-to-day human interactions. And I don't know why that is, either. I guess it's just more fun to take life really, really un-seriously sometimes.
Beer number two
I feel like I've already rambled about a lot of bullshit and I've barely finished my first beer. This is going to be long, I guess. Don't feel obligated to read it, by any means. This is my "just for fun" Steemit post; as I do this sort of stuff normally, I'd like to start putting more of my (insert whatever you call it) on Steemit. This community means a lot to me and I feel so grateful to be able to be on here while I can't walk. I'm fine, by the way; it's not like I rebroke my ankle. I just realized how weak it is and, well, today is a sitting kind of day. Walking up the stairs to the shower was hard enough; letting alone taking Raiden for walks.
It's supposed to storm all week here and I couldn't be more excited. Lately, the weatherman has been telling us it's going to storm all the time; but he keeps lying to us. (side note- our local weatherman has the most annoying voice you can imagine) This time I hope it will actually happen. I have no sources on this, but I heard a large volcano just erupted in Hawaii. That usually creates pretty good storm patterns, and maybe some magnetic storms.
I LOVE weather. Like, actual weather. 80 and sunny to me isn't weather. That's just plain old existence. I want mother nature to make people afraid to leave their homes. Every day that I see a calm, sunny, "nice" day; well, I just wait for the next one.
I've got a lot to do before my big move west. Like, a lot. I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to get it all done within my timeframe. Is timeframe not a word? I've found recently that I often combine two words into one, just thinking that they're common enough where the blending is appropriate. I don't know. Anyways, yeah, a lot. Every day the clock ticks louder and I'm just realizing I have less than 6 weeks left in this house. After that, I will probably spend a few weeks at my friend's house fixing up that cabin(I believe I've mentioned my restoration project before), and then we're ghosts. I obviously have a ton of real life things to take care of before I leave- but getting rid of my stuff is honestly the part I'm most fearing. I have to try to figure out what to keep, what to sell, what to throw out, what to give away, to who-- it doesn't sound like much but I'm a "borderline hoarder" and it's really fucking hard. On that note, fuck it. If you trust me enough to give me your address send it to me and I'll send you a random care package of stuff I'm getting rid of. Expect anything and everything, unless there is something in particular you actually need and if I got it, I'll mail it.
On the note of my move, I was in a bar downtown the other night with my friend who we'll just call "Buckets", and a random stranger just kind of sat down with us in the middle of a conversation and just kind of drunkenly swayed around and smiled. At one point, mid-sentence, Buckets just turned to her and said "Can I help you??" If you knew him, even in the slightest, you could imagine how funny that was.
Anyways she just turned out to be a really drunk stranger new to town who was running away from a creepy conversation at the other end of the bar. Within 30 seconds of the conversation starting, she mentions that she had just moved cross country from the exact place I had been planning on moving to. It took me a minute to convince her I wasn't joking, and as Buckets interrupted, she walked into the bathroom on a phone call. When she returned, she informed me that she had just called her friend who had bought land in said town, and that I was more than welcome to live there before I found a place. Life is crazy.
Beer number 3
I'm currently subletting a room in a house with 5 other people. Needless to say, foot traffic in and out is pretty heavy. And every time our front door opens, Raiden barks, runs over excitedly to greet whoever it might be, and when they wander off the their respective rooms, he feels the need to run and jump up on my lap. Normally I don't really mind; however the old computer I got back up and running doesn't have a functioning battery; i.e. every time he jumps up on my lap my computer is at risk of being unplugged and immediately shutting off. Given my previous luck with my drafts not saving; that would kind of suck. Although I guess it wouldn't be the end of the world because this is a pretty random post.
I have the only bedroom on the first floor of the house. It shares a wall with a tiny, gross little bathroom. One of my room mates' fathers just bought the house, so they're planning on doing a bunch of renovations including expanding said bathroom and putting a shower in it. This involves knocking out a wall in my bedroom. I of course don't have a problem with it, but I was originally told it was to happen in early June, when I moved in. Therefore, considering the size and shape of the room is going to change, I have been kind of waiting on making it a room until that project happens. After a lot of bla bla bla, I was finally told by the contractor it was happening. They knocked out the drywall on the bathroom side and asked me to keep that half of my room clear so they could work for a day. So, I threw everything from that half of the room on top of everything in the other half of the room.
That was on Monday. Nothing's happened. So there's just a huge pile of unorganized shit in my room while the other half is completely bare. I dare not try to sort my stuff out on the off chance they finally come to do it and it's in the way. My room was already more or less a storage unit I slept in to begin with, but it's still extremely fucking frustrating.
One corner of my room is dedicated to a bunch of random fabrics(well, random clothes really), markers, and hand-sewing materials. I got really inspired to start making clothes for myself and my friends but have run into the problem of not having any time at all to painstakingly hand sew things. I am making a jacket for a friend that is slowly coming along, but so far I've put a stupid amount of hours into it and it's no where near done. The obvious solution would to be to get a sewing machine; but that really doesn't fit into my whole get-rid-of-everything-before-i-leave-the-east-coast mantra.
I'm currently listening to my room mate's friend dig through our fridge. I heard him start gagging and running the sink, and my room mate Ryan laughing hysterically. Ryan then said something along the lines of "I used that once on my chicken sandwich without trying it before and I had to throw the whole thing out". I walked in to find out what they were talking about, and it was one of my hot sauces. I have a very high tolerance for hot stuff, and I can't help but laugh when people are sweating over it. That might be evil of me but eh
I'm starting to get really hungry and just realized that I did not eat anything today prior to starting this post. It kind of just happened on a whim. That might also explain why I feel somewhat buzzed after 2.75 beers. This beer also doesn't say the alcohol percentage so that may have something to do with it, too.
Beer number 4
Fucking nazis man. I recently shaved my head; like shave shaved, razor to the skin. I liked the way it feels and so I figured I'd keep up with it a bit and have been. But racists are fucking idiots. Over the past 3 weeks, I've been approached by a few of the local right-wing racist fucks in this town, a smile on their face and their arm extended. It usually happens at the bar. I'm not really much for violence; although if I was they without a doubt would be my target; so I couldn't do anything but stare at them until they got the picture. If it weren't in a bar, I probably would have gotten into an argument with them, but staring is a big part of my drinking persona.
This shit really pisses me off, though. Someone bic'ing their head is a fucking haircut - not a statement. My black friends have been constantly giving me shit about it; joking about me hanging out with racists. And they're just fucking with me and that's fine. But the thing is- even if I had shaved my head in some sort of cultural statement- the general public, and even the stupid fucking racists who try to adopt it, HAVE NO IDEA WHERE SKINHEAD CULTURE CAME FROM
As I said before my shaving my head has nothing to do with this and is simply a haircut. But I know enough about that culture to know that the far-right adoptees of the "skinhead" is just idiotic. Skinhead culture started in London in the 60s or 70s(fact check I don't know and I'm drinking so I'm not gonna look it up) as a means for blue-collar kids to embrace their social status, and to ultimately separate themselves from the hippies who were promoting what they say as a middle-class dream. This was also during a period of a large amount of immigration from Jamaica to London; and many of the blue-collar working class Jamaican immigrants started vibing with the local blue-collar homies. This is really why I know this is because this was how the ska/reggae/punk scenes originally collided; a genre which I have a huge amount of respect for.
So, the skinheads were poor kids from London and Jamaica trying to separate themselves from the hippies by shaving off all their hair. And then a guy wrote a book about a racist skinhead, and it became super popular. (among many other small occurrences leading up to that, obviously). Then the National Front saw it's opportunity, took it and branded the skinhead as a racist culture; and yada yada someone stole a culture to use it for the opposite purpose. What's new.
Beer number 5
But people trying to include me in the group of stupid racist kids who portray something they know nothing about; it really bothers me. To the point where I'm thinking of getting a N.P.F.O. tattoo on my head. For those of you who don't know, it's an acronym that stand for Nazi Punks Fuck Off, and was born from a song(well it was more like a message) from the Dead Kennedys. As had been a consistent issue since the skinhead London days, racists and Nazis were trying to steal the punk scene; a message in direct contradiction with what the scene was meant to embrace.
Now, there's also a story I've heard from a friend but have no way of knowing if it's true or not-- but given how the culture has been documented(or lack of so) I believe it to be true. The Dead Kennedys also wrote a song called "Kill the Poor", a very obviously satirical song about how our government plans to kill us off. A group of nazi kids, however, in the interest of trying to "steal the culture", beat to death several homeless men, and blamed the song for it. Subsequently, Nazi Punks Fuck Off was released, to let them know they were not allowed to listen to their music. Over decades, and to present day, it became a symbol to tell racists that you want nothing to do with them; and if I continue to get approached in the manner I have been, I think it may be necessary to put on display.
That's my rant about haircuts. Anyone have any thoughts on the men in black?
I don't mean like Will Smith and shit. But, as I'm sure some of you know, "men in black" refers to the mysterious and unhuman people who show up in black suits to tell people to stop looking into extraterrestrial life? Being obsessed with the weird side of life, I've always known of the legend; but I've never been that interested in that aspect of it until recently when I picked up the book The Mothman Prophecies. Shit is nuts! It's a true life, unbiased report from a guy who looked into UFO stuff without a strong belief in it. It mainly covers the events that took place during a year in the late 60's in West Virginia, where thousands of people reported seeing what looked, literally, like a moth-man. The last sighting was right before a huge tragedy occurred and a large bridge fell out, killing around 50 people I believe.
Believe in stuff or not, it's a pretty captivating read. And it made me start looking into M.I.B. encounters, and they are fucking fascinating. I have no stance on the stuff but some of the reports you read really make you wonder. And there are two many coincidences not to draw a web. Although, you can always find coincidences or connections when you are looking for them.
I haven't done a freewrite, or whatever you want to call it, like this in a very long time It feels good. It's also probably ridiculous, or ridiculously boring, but it's a fun experiment and I'm gonna post it. I wasn't so sure if I was at the beginning or if I was just playing make-believe, but I guess why not. I'm feeling nihilistic AF these days. I'm definitely not gonna proof read it, so if anyone's even made it this far(which I really doubt) I may have repeated myself or whatever. My b.
Beer number 6
Finally. The last one. My drinking team just opened her last one too, so everything's on par. Raiden is very much so asleep. He's going to hate driving across country; he's not very good in cars. Only trucks, apparently. But, really.
I'm really looking forward to the migration. Anyone in the US who would wanna grab a cup of coffee on our way through holler. I'm also really looking forward to coming right back here after moving, which is really funny to me. I pretty much just want to go settle a new home and then come back and see my friends, haha. It's funny how small your friend group can shrink and how much it can change. I've been shifting mine around lately while realizing the more "real" people in my life and it feels amazing. Everyone deserves to be loved; unless they treat others like shit. If your friends don't have your back just get rid of them.
I want to spend way more time on Steemit; I love this community and being on here; it's so unique from pretty much any other experience I've had. I want to start trying to post every day; but when I try to commit to that I run into the problem of spending way too much time on my posts. If I only did my typical posts, I would have no time to interact with everyone else. I would just write that post during all my free time and then have to take care of my other obligations instead of reading your posts. I hope that things like this become more regular for me and serve as a break to kind of spill my unfiltered mind. I'd be really surprised/impressed if anyone is still actually reading this at this point. If you are, prove it, by trying to phonetically spell out a crazy bird sound in the comments. I'm about 2/3 done with this beer now and am drinking it faster and faster.
This was a great way to spend my crippled Friday afternoon. I'm hoping my ankles all back to normal tomorrow; I think it should be. Go look into men in black stories or watch the movie adaptation of The Mothman Prophecies. Not quite as convincing as real life accounts but definitely entertaining. Here's a song by The The. Enjoy. I love you all