Let’s Just Try To Wrap Our Heads Around This One

Good fucking luck.

It’s impossible. As per usual, I struggle with summing up context, mostly because everything feels so important that it inevitably turns into irrelevancy. Now that’s what I call context! But wait, no, this is serious, no jokes for a minute.

I am completely and utterly out of control and I know it, which you think would mean I wasn’t, cause like, duh, logical conclusions say you’d have to be sane to know you’re insane, fucking catch 22 all over again. It’s true though. Something’s clicked recently and I’ve jumped into a mindset of desperate panic that’s affecting every single interaction I have. People are worried and I’m not giving them reasons not to be. Sister. Friends. Guy at bodega. Girl. Everyone. They all know I’m fucking crazy. In fact, they’re fucking crazy aware of how crazy I am, and from the perspective of a social thermometer, that says something.

So okay, now we’ve established context. Here’s where it gets weird.

I head to New Orleans on Monday to hang out with dudes on horses, high school cheerleaders and most importantly, Akasha and Clark. I’m deadly serious about all of that statement somehow. What’s not cool about it is how intensely out of control I’m being, which we’ve established. Rich knows this but obviously doesn’t know what to do about it. So what does he decide to do?

Buy Jon Larsen a one way ticket to hang out with me.

Wait, what?

Jon has absolutely nothing right now and is losing his mind. I mean, I have more nothing and have lost my mind way harder, but Jon’s running the same race and is gaining on me. And Rich cares about him too. So I vaguely assume what Rich decided to do is put me and Jon together so we can fight the world as a team and force ourselves into staying alive, if only out of spite. Okay, great plan. Oh, did I mention Jon doesn’t want to go? Yeah, he’s afraid he’ll die there, doesn’t have any money at all and has no reason to live. Perfect. He obviously should be around me, the guy who’s only barely hanging on. Luckily I have $100,000+ dollars in medical debt and badass seizures I can use to support us. At least we have that. But seriously, Rich didn’t even ask Jon, just bought him a ticket and smiled. It’s not like Rich is going to New Orleans. He’s just sending Jon to save me or something, which abstractly is supposed to save Jon.

So here are the questions: Why? What are we going to do there? Where are we going to live? How are we going to survive? How the fuck are we going to survive?

Nice plan Rich.

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But that’s what’s happening and it’s scary and crazy and maybe even exciting. Will we survive? Good question.

I guess in sum, well, i mean, if any of this makes sense to you, I just like, don’t know…

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