i quit. february 7th.

I watched united 93 tonight. Christ. Intense. Death. Memories. Brutal to watch, not just hard.

I can’t remember the last film I saw that affected me like this, leaving me comfortably numb, lonely, empty inside. the film itself was real, historically analyzed, and that’s what made it all the more depressing.  The scenes of a woman calling her son who was at home, smiling through the I Love yous, a girl in her 20s calling her parents, telling her that the plane is hijacked, and that this is the last time I’ll talk to you, two grandparents calling their grandchildren trying to make sense of it all, the passengers’ uprising the killers head bludgeoned to a red pulp the door breaking apart the plane drops altitude from the sky coming closer to the ground closer and then nothing. black. just black.

i quit my job today. gave them 2 weeks.  couldn’t sleep last night. i have a girl on the brain. don’t ask me how this is happening, or why, or why now, i can’t figure it out, but im actually comfortable with where its going. she’s not a hippie, but grew up in the mountains, and is almost as tall as me.

yeah so i quit. with nothing set in place for after i get outta that spot. but i’m okay with that. corporate america is a prison; job longevity completely overrated. at this point at least. what are we? monkeys who sit in front of computers and learn how to work machines? is that life? work was getting pathetic, and i wanted out.  the brothers are excited, the friends as well, the parents a different story. and that is to be expected 🙂

the past few years have been filled with personal torment and struggle, self loathing and discovery, a squashing and reconstruction of myself.  i’ve played cat and mouse with the ‘i’ll figure it out at some point’ game for god knows how long, and I can tell, just from my body, that my head has put the brakes and actually getting perspective into what its doing. i’m doing it right now, and this utterly foreign sensation has entered the naturalization stage.

I am a writer. I’m writing. I write.  A few months ago I realized I could even make money doing it, by coming up with concepts, channeling those cerebral spasms into something useful for a client, who would like to figure out how to present something..a shoe, new detergent, a political policy, a festival, a book about the Jewish view on masturbation, whatever comes up.  and there’s thing place called advertising school that I knew nothing about (operation destroy college counselor initiated) that I’m scrambling to get my shit together for, so that I can join their ranks and fill my head with how to sell, and what to say in order to sell.  what gets me slightly down are my shortcomings, however apparent, however minute. i guess the self-guessing never stops. whatever. let someone else run the footlocker, run the chinese slave shoe factory, train the managers, and fire the employees who are doing blow in the stackroom. I just wanna write their commercials and name their shoes for them.

life is good on other fronts. i mentioned the woman, and that is going well. im into her like I’m still in high school. which makes sense, since she’s not 20 yet. but i give her credit, she’s got an older mind on her shoulders, as i did, do, had. the hotness factor undoubtedly plays serious role as well. the brother is a lawyer and working with the father, the mother is on the path of being a real estate mogul, the other brother, i don’t know, i think he’s just growing up. on saturday i’m going for an ear candling and a foot detox, and then the moca to check out some japanese art exhibit with my friend. big weekend? maybe.

look forward to the weekend. we all need it. peace and love, shabbat shalom…i hope things are going well for you in your neck of the forest.


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I'm fascinated with people, their stories, where they're coming from and where they're headed. Met many, and now it's time to write my own. follow the footprint.

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