It’s warm. Too warm. A gray candle violently flickers and hisses and pops on the night stand, crackling like the sticker says it’s supposed to. A patent-pending wick design, “+Pluswick”, that’s supposed to enhance fragrance throw and burn and recreates the sound of a fireplace with real wood. This fucking candle is about the size of a shot glass and cost me $16. Good ol’ supply and demand. Thank you for helping me burn that hole in my pocket, Yankee.
Our hotel room is a massive wheelchair accessible suite. It’s about double the size we have on our normal off days and yet still, Ghost is streaming his new VR headset two feet away from the tv. If this was twenty years ago, his mom would probably tell him not to sit so close. “You’re gonna hurt your eyes,” she’d probably say.
In 2018, screens are made to sit an inch from your eyes and no one talks about strain. At least not enough to warrant a fiery uprising from the people. Not yet, anyway.
In the corner of the room, beyond the second queen bed, the air conditioner is busted. It makes the typical fan sound and also feels like air is coming out. But for some reason the thermostat’s been stuck on 78 degrees for the last three hours.
So, yes, it’s warm. And really, I can’t complain. It’s been a bitterly cold winter, and I’m ready for long sleeves and windbreakers. I don’t even wear windbreakers. And now it’s 78 degrees and and I’m in a t-shirt and talking about how warm it is.
The grass is always greener, isn’t it?
Sometimes as humans I feel like we’re never content with anything in life. We’re constantly looking for something better, the next thing that’s going to make us happier, laugh harder, cry more. We’re all addicts looking for our next hit of likes and retweets and comments. We’re all socially damaged and, because of the internet, we don’t know how to talk to each other anymore. We’re a generation where you can get anything you want at the click of a mouse. At the end of a return key. You name it: food, transportation, love, sex, friends. Everything your entire survival depends on in life is spoon-fed to you daily, and yet there are still people out there that can’t figure out how to just be happy. And I’m no exception to this rule. I’ve caught myself many times thinking that things could be better if ______. Life would be easier if ______. But you know what? It never is. Even if I had whatever it was that would “make my life easier/better/more meaningful”, those things would probably just open up another set of circumstances that would end up making me wish and want more and it’s just an endless cycle of putting off your life. It’s a good way to fall into depression and hopelessness. It’s a good way to convince yourself that you’re a complete and utter failure for no reason other than “what you have isn’t enough”. I don’t know why people are so vulnerable to this predicament, but it would be so much easier if we could just let it go and learn to not take for granted the things that we already have.
This is starting to segue into a whole other level of topics that I don’t have time to dive into at the moment, so I need to cut this off before it gets out of hand.
I know that in my last post I said I had many things to talk about, and I do (clearly), I’m just working on a mini “essay” of sorts at the moment. Trying to get all my ducks in a row before I post it. I’m also working on a billion short stories to hopefully do something cool with (and by a billion I mean a dozen or so). Between all of that and working through books and playing shows and doing VIP’s every day, I’m a god damn busy man. Maybe that’s a little exaggerated, because it doesn’t really feel like I’m that busy. Or maybe I just enjoy it all so it doesn’t really feel like work. I’m not sure.
Anyway, time to go find a snack and maybe make some tea. I gotta get out of this warm room so I can appreciate it after being out in the cold for a while. And then maybe I'll appreciate spending almost $20 on a fucking five ounce "specialty" candle too. Who knows.