The Life and Times of a walking disasterpants

its about that time

2009-06-03T22:10:00.000-07:00

sometimes i just feel the need to check the spam filter in to my gmail, to see what kind of awesome, delightful offers I get to make millions of dollars, have a 17" penis, or get some nice drugs.

I guess the people who like to mass-mail their terrible ideas finally figured people were on to them so they have a new tactic.

GENIUS!

no cars on the county road

2009-05-24T23:54:00.000-07:00

What the hell am I doing anyways?

I initially wanted this blog to be impish and lolzy but I have recently found out there’s more to life than being a smarmy asshole (who knew?!)
Because blogs are somewhat self indulgent by nature Im just gonna roll with existential (read: pointless) ramblings for awhile so as to be sure to alienate all 3 of my loyal, sexy readers.

So I’ve relocated from breakneck Manhattan to rural Virginia. It’s an odd transition but not at all bad. Its quiet here, the air smells like firewood and summer and the relentless tension that existed between my shoulder blades is slowly dissipating.

It’s so odd to be alone, in solitude. I used to awesome at being alone…I thrived on it. Solitude is what I did to recharge my batteries and write songs and paint and slowly figure out the puzzle pieces of my insides until they fit in a manner I was happy with. In the last 4 or so years, that part of me that enjoyed true ‘aloneness’ wandered off somewhere. There was a near constant stream of new and interesting things in my life, a revolving door. Of course I couldn’t turn that down, and I’m damn glad for every single amazing person I’ve ever met. I just balanced everything poorly and forgot to step outside of myself and be peaceful.

You can’t really appreciate the good things in life when you’re running around chasing every distraction in sight.

And that’s where I’m at now. Attempting to fully inhale this amazing and fantastic life. See where it takes me. There's no more distractions here, no more parties to go to, no more randoms to pop up, no nothing. It's forcing me to just enjoy life for what it is. It's proving to be difficult; I miss so many things (and more importantly people). I ache for them.

Above everything else though, I am grateful for the opportunity to come full circle.

2009-05-13T12:31:00.001-07:00

Sup blog?

Womp womp

2009-04-26T16:00:00.000-07:00

I should have known my life would fall apart the day after Bea Arthur died.

It seems so fitting, so completely awkward and ridiculous that it just works.

My life is strewn around this city so when I went to go pick up the pieces I was surprised to find some of them intact. Some were a little tattered while others were completely shattered.

My heart, my stupid fucking heart is broken. I don't mind that I've failed to make my mark here. I do mind that incessant burning in my chest that switches between fits of rage and deep plunging sorrow because my lover has put the final nail in the coffin to my chapter in this wicked city. What do you do when you have loved so deeply and honestly? When you moved continents and drew maps and created bridges? All of them disappeared under my calloused feet so quickly.

___

note to self:
Pick up the pieces. Slowly. Pick them up and dust them off and turn them into something that is different, but better designed. Keep it simple and be kind. Be kinder than you can ever imagine and do not get caught up in those things anymore. Clean yourself up and don’t get led to those old traps. Don’t listen to people who repeat their mistakes. Figure out the lesson you are supposed to have learned here and take it heart. Take it so it is engrained and branded in your soul so that you never forget.
You’re not a bad person but you make bad decisions; you say bad and careless things. Stop it and be honest, to yourself and others.
______

I’m facing a monolithic wall of bricks outside of my window that will very soon not be my window anymore. To me it looks like a monument, an ideal. Day after day I stare at expectantly, as if it will tell me the answers and pick me up. It does not. I guess that's my job.

I'm headed for a Virginia summer to heal and begin a new life. Clean slates and all of that nonsense. I never thought I'd be the one to fall apart and be standing there with my heart in my hands. Just standing there.

Things come around, they always do. Here's to the spring and a new adventure.

free for all!

2009-03-31T20:38:00.000-07:00

Oh hey bloggeroo it's been awhile. My bad, I've been busy being awesome and bummin around town in a decidedly fiendish manner.

As a broke-ass mofo I have to find my way about town cheaply. NYC is an interesting dichotomy; while its absurdly expensive in every way imaginable, there's another side of it that's cheap, free and fun (and sketchy). That side I'm talking about of course, is OPEN BARS! (The best resource being: My Open Bar.)

One of the greatest, most unintentionally hilarious open bars is easily: The Art Gallery Opening. Words cannot describe the hipster douchebaggery that takes place at these events. Lots of American Apparel, dirty hair, and skinny awkward pants people. Oh and let us not forget ironic glasses (ray-bans with prescription lens).

I guess what really makes me angry at hipsters is the fact that they make a fairly lucrative living out of not: trying/showering/doing laundry. Whereas I also make a living out of not: trying/showering/doing laundry and yet I am not as cool and twice as poor. I think maybe to cross that borderline into hipsterdom I'm going to need to wear more scarfs. checkered scarfs. checkered worn like shawls.

Anyways, it's wonderful to navigate a sea of categorically awful art while very inconspicously shotgunning cans of PBR (or Stella Artois bottles if you're lucky!). Once I even saw glass bottles of Sapporo which is epic. Below are some shots I snapped for your convenience so you can cringe from a distance.

xoxoxox

coffeefiend

Stating the Obvious

2009-03-08T00:20:00.000-08:00

It's sunday and it's late

The Bright Side of Failure

2009-03-02T12:40:00.000-08:00

These days I am having frequent, saucy encounters with failure and I must say I have mixed emotions about this.

In some ways failure can be your best bud. It can be your saving grace and solace giver. It's so, so motivating to be the underdog, set-up for failure despite good intentions and best efforts. It's a comfort to go into a situation knowing you, in all odds won't succeed but still bust your ass because hey...you're a badass. It's an inspiring process.

To be fair, sometimes I find it realllly fucking hard to see it from that angle. After so many attempts instead of motivation and optimism-stimulus it's so easy to just roll over. Throw up your hands and say 'clearly I can't do this'. At what point is it that your barking up the wrong tree?

Coffeefiend is feelin a little low because of 2 count 'em 2 job rejections. I know I shouldn't take it hard, and shouldn't take it personally. But it's impossible not to have that ego busting moment. After all I can learn from this and work on my weaknesses. No use in conjecture because in all honestly it didn't have anything to do with me.

So I guess the moral of this story is that failure blows. it fucking blows. but it can bring the best out in you. don't let anyone ever tell you you can't have what you want. ...and if they do, tell em to fuck off. :)

Shout-Out

2009-02-27T11:56:00.000-08:00

RE: http://lizindc.blogspot.com/2009/02/blame-coffeefiend.html

Dear Liz,

I love you. With the passion of an afternoon full of 7-hour long Danielle Steel mini-series on Lifetime Network.

Your vagina oriented-smut formula is the new golden triangle.

xoxo

-coffeefiend

eroticless erotica

2009-02-25T09:06:00.000-08:00

This morning on the subway I encountered one of my fav. public transportation creatures:

The Smut Story Reader

Usually in the form of a sexually frustrated 20/30-something white lady (there are hilarious exceptions to this), they are often found reading romance novels or magazine articles in an inconspicuous fashion (ie. hiding the cover). Generally they will get really engrossed in the softcore, unthreatening, thesaurus friendly erotica and then look around shiftily every 10 minutes or so. No one else on the subway is supposed to know or understand their unbridled passion and yearning (don't worry ladies, coffeefiend understands).

Today, it was a young blond lady reading Cosmo. This seemed pretty innocuous and standard; I've been under the impression that Cosmo was filled with 500 pages consisting only of pictures of bracelets and the gross overuse of the words 'fabulous' and 'fun'. What caught my wandering eye and threw me into a fit of giggles poorly covered up by caughing was the name of the article 'Paging Dr. Lust'. ARE YOU SERIOUS, SMUT STORY READER?

note: Dr. Lust DID prove to be a decent over the shoulder read between 72nd St and 34th St., don't get me wrong.

It's Complicated

2009-02-23T18:01:00.001-08:00

Dear Blog,

I've neglected you for so long. I feel bad about only using to you to make immature, inappropriate, and overall toolboxy comments on other's blogs. I feel like you deserve a shot to grow and become a sexy, sexy blog like all of your friends.

I will use you to make useless observations and the occasional emotional outburst. I'll probably use you to passive-aggressively call people out and will most certainly use you to post all of the leftover pictures not cool or interesting enough for facebook.

In short, my lovely blog, things are going to be different from now on. Ohh sure you've heard it before but I swear I'm different!!

Hearts and Puppies,

-coffeefiend

hey

2008-09-04T10:57:00.001-07:00

blogs are gay.