the humanist baseball team

a week or so ago i bought this yo la tengo album called i’m not afraid of you and i will beat your ass. i haven’t bought a cd for awhile and i’ve never bought a yo la tengo cd at all. but i got this cd and 2 others for my long long daily drive into a place with no radio reception. the only problem is that i am middle-school-style obsessed with track 5. like right now, the cd is IN THE CAR so i am listening to track 5, with 30 second buffering breaks every line or so, on the internet. it’s called “black flowers” and it features some of the cooler instruments from the brass section.

the guy who’s doing our windows just asked me if my car was in california and i explained to him how i don’t have a car and how i sort of want one. now i have him AND some of my co-workers on the lookout for cheap but not-destroyed cars that will get me back to california in august. if you are looking for a place where people love cars and deals, port angeles is the place to go. they are almost offended by my lack of vehicle. i am hoping this works in my favor.

not working in my favor: the residual damage to my bicycle done by the friend of the f-ing drunk i spent so much of last year standing/sitting next to. [the more i think about being 23 in portland with a guy who was literally drunk twice a day, which is almost now OVER a year ago, the more i think the only way to describe our relationship can be that we spent a lot of time standing/sitting next to each other. when we talked about things, it was basically like 2 people who just met at a bar talking about things. our allegiance was about as strong as the allegiance you might feel for a guy who cheers for the same baseball team as you. the only thing we had in common probably was that we both wanted someone standing/sitting next to us who normalized our suicidal lifestyle. it was really a lovely time. we don’t talk anymore. i don’t know about him, but i’m trying to NOT die next year, alone and in a gutter. i’m not sure why, but i’m just not miserable anymore.] anyway, almost exactly a year ago, i let the drunk’s drunk visiting friend ride my bike for roughly 4 minutes, in which time he succeeded in causing almost $300 worth of damage. he left the next day and i don’t even know his name. then the drunk left and i was glad and somehow i got a guy i sort of knew to cook up some way to fix my bike for $50. apparently though it was just temporary. i realized this when the shifter fell off 2 weeks ago. and i double realized this when i just this afternoon finally paid the $300 i should have paid a year ago. i guess these things are like hangovers. you know, a reminder of the reasons you don’t do something, like drink 4 pints of terminal gravity ipa in a row or hangout with people who wish they were dead. so. lesson learned.

another hypothetical lesson opportunity: i went to a dermatologist today specifically to ask about my mild but never-ending case of acne (and not some fake mole removal that i’ll never go through with) for the first time ever. this is something that might have been helpful to do when i was 14. but i’ve been waiting. you are supposed to outgrow acne is what i heard. guess what. not me. anyway, among the MANY drugs and creams the doctor prescribed for me was an ANTI-PSYCHOTIC: the drug people with tourette’s syndrome get to stop them from yelling “fuck” all the time. she said it would actually stop me from picking at my face. it’s an off-label use of the drug. i never thought i would be faced with the moral decision of whether or not i should take an anti-psychotic drug. it seems a little ridiculous and maybe sort of a cop out. i mean, shouldn’t i be able to deal with this problem without outside intervention? or is this the proof i’ve always wanted that THERE IS SOMETHING SERIOUSLY WRONG WITH ME? maybe nothing is my fault after all.

truthfully, even going to the dermatologist at all seems messed up to me. is my physical appearance so important that i will take prescription medication to change it? it’s just a body, right? it’s not that important a part of how i identify myself. and if people like me less because of my weird skin issues then those aren’t people i want to be with. i mean, i know this sounds like something your mom told you when you were a kid but i am serious about it. i don’t want to waste my time worrying about how i look. i don’t want that to be the thing about me. and i don’t want to change the chemical make-up of my body at all.

i’m not sure where i am going with this. i went to the doctor and i’m going to take some medicine for purely aesthetic reasons and i’m feeling guilty about it. imagine how i’ll feel if i actually get a car. speaking of an unnecessary use of resources. at least i am done with alcoholics. i think i need to bring in my new cd from the car. in an hour i am going to a potluck. too bad my skin isn’t cured right this second. okay. i’m going stop writing this before things get any worse.