My mom is singing hymns in the kitchen because her church was shortened.  I’m drawing a blank as to why I thought I had things to write.  I thought I sharted my pants driving home a half-hour ago but it was a false alarm; I’m new to phò.

This is my first blog post and it sucks.  I’m not going to outline my intention or lay out a framework or scheme up a justification for my web presence.  I told myself I was going to do this, so I’m doing it.  Maybe in hind-sight someone will see nice a thread, but it won’t be me looking.

Let’s see, where am I at?  Jesus we’re coming up on a year since I graduated college (it’ll be a year next month).  Just look at me now: living with my parents and regressing into teenage angst.  Actually angst is good.  What worries me is the possibility of it going away.  You’re supposed to hate your parents, then you move out, then you love them from far away.

That’s where I’m trying to get: Far Away.

Orange County, I always say, is Circe’s Island, like where Odysseus and his men get all dazed and seduced and a bunch of time goes by but they’re like woah how’d so much time go by.

The funny thing is, I was in a pretty good spot until I came back here of my own perverse volition.  Let me give you some logistics or exposition or whatever.  Actually, I think I’ll do it time-line style:

March 2018: I Graduate from UC Santa Cruz a quarter early, so I go back to OC to wait until the Graduation Ceremony in June.

May: Can’t stand living with my parents, so I decide I’m going to bail on the cap and gown and drive out to Maine to live in my uncle’s guest-house for the summer.  My car breaks down in Vegas (didn’t make it too far), and I get mixed up in a strange and not un-terrifying scandal that may or may not be a closed case, so I’ll leave it at that.

It involved a gun, a hotel window, and a lot a lot of vodka.  Anyways, I tow the car back to California and fly to Maine where I end up with a wind-fall of cash thanks to a little “start-up”.  No not drugs, parking. I won’t bore you with the details.

September:  Instead of getting an apartment in New York or L.A. with all the money I made, I spend it all surfing and partying in Ecuador and Peru for a month, and then foolishly get home-sick and find myself back in Laguna Beach.

October:  It is some how February.

If you were to ask me why I haven’t been working the last three or four months I could not tell you.  It feels like I’m always dropping off resumes.

I’m currently bar-backing Friday and Saturday nights at a dive bar.  It’s pretty fun.  I get to bar-tend.  I’m like a bartender with more chores and a smaller percentage of the tips.

Oh yeah, I started doing some stand up shows.  I bombed the first one at the House of Blues, killed it in the Belly Room at the Comedy Store, and then bombed again at the House of Blues.  I Think I’ll just stick to more intimate settings/venues, like bars.  Might do OpenMic at Harper Inn in Costa Mesa tomorrow night.

I think I ought to call it quits for the night on this blogging thing because I’m currently eaves dropping/giving my two cents to an argument in the kitchen.  But mark you me, come May, I’m getting the hell out of Dodge.  Gonna find me a nice Southern town to learn ridiculous exclamatory aphorisms in, like Austin or Nashville.  Until next week, xoxo,

-Weez