52 Weeks, 1 Day.
I am one year old now. It was the worst year of my life. I cried a lot last year. The most I have ever cried as a grown man…
Probably when I was on my emo phase as a teenager I cried more. I probably cried more when I was a little kid. I probably cried more after I found out Lisa was cheating on me though it was obvious, but I loved her so I cried and cried.
The point is I cry a lot.
But I have never cried as much as losing my mom.
The days after it happened, I Googled how to get over it. I found some blogs. Those sad blogs sort of helped me. So maybe someone is going through something similar and founds this silly blog. Most of them say “it gets better,” well… it sorta does. It’s never the same. But I am better.
This weekend is the saddest and happiest weekend at the same time. It commemorates my mother’s death and it’s my niece’s 3rd birthday.
A double whammy of emotions.
But in reality, it’s more happiness than sadness.
And I’m busy as fuck.
I have to interview my veterinarian and take pictures in… like… soon.
And I have to take pictures of other writers’ stories. Other photoshoots…
A friend is visiting.
I revived my tours.
I gotta do my laundry. Not only the usual: underwear, socks, and shirts. But more. Like: sheets, towels, and hoodies. And perhaps others like: jeans.
Finish the last chapter of my book that I keep thinking about that I haven’t done and it’s mounting more and more.
So busy… I don’t really have time to blog. But here I am blogging on a gloomy Tijuana day.
Busy is good.
Busy is always good.
The first three covers of 2020 are my covers!
Here’s the third one:
That was the first fun gig of the year in the snow with Joykwondo and her amazing burgers and the tiny house and more.
I posted it all on Instagram.
I don’t post as much as I used too.
I don’t care anymore.
I don’t really care.
I just do it because it feels like work.
All I do is post stupid stories. I like doing those a lot still…
I was supposed to launch my book today just because I like the date. But no. It’s not complete.
I thought I was going to launch it because I thought it was complete. Alas, it is not.
It needed heavy editing which I’ve been doing. And it still needs more which Chad will be doing. It also needs one last final design on the cover and then I can release it.
Teasing it has been fun though.
Whenever I mention it and tell a story or a chapter in it, people seem intrigued. It’s an easy read of all the dumbshit I’ve done. So I have high fantasies with it and low expectation realities as well… I really really really hope that the fantasy expectations come true. I really need the money. My student loans are on my ass again and I don’t have the money to pay it.
The busiest again, but I don’t feel like I’m making any money…
Sometimes, I do way less and make more money. Sometimes, I do a lot and make less money.
2019 was a better year financially for me. I actually paid my student loans… some of it.
And I was never financially worried.
Fuck all of 2019.
2020 is starting extremely busy. But no money. At least not broke. But not enough money to pay my student loans. So I’ll let the calls go to voicemail and the little fees add up for a month and hopefully…
I can’t depend on my book.
That’s why tour revivals!!!
I’ve done two tours already.
One lasted less than 4 hours, was with a cool photographer/writer from Los Angeles and he paid me good money.
The other lasted more than 24 hours, it was with two California Pocha girls, similar to the ones I went to college with, and they paid me $20 less than the other dude.
But I couldn’t charge them more. I mean… I could’ve. But I just hate charging more money than the agreed-upon though I did WAY more touring that what I agreed-upon…
MY FUCKING ALMOST JUST GAVE ME A FUCKING HEART ATTACK!!!!
She meows and meows and meows that she wants to go out in the balcony. I let her every now and then, but the little fucker always walks on the balcony’s side rail as if we weren’t fucking four floors up. She was walking on that shit again, I turned around to yell at her to get down and she fucking slipped.
SHE FUCKING SLIPPED!
But held on to the rail.
She seriously… fuck.
That’s my mom’s cat.
I gotta write about her and my fat cat and my veterinarian soon.
I’m still exhausted from the tour. We covered so much ground and drank so much and both times ended up going really late at the gay club Hawaii. The girls fucking loved it there. I like it because I like people watching and it’s funny. But gross. There was way too much penis for me.
At least the first night two cute girls were sitting next to me. And one was eyeing me. Cute girls sometimes are in gay bars. And they WERE girls. I’m certain of it. I’m good at telling. The trans girls were on the other side of the bar. There was an old fat man with glasses, probably in his 60s, he was making out with a pretty trans girl. Then she left and he sat there in the bar all sad.
In the meantime, the girls were getting lap dances and loving it. One of the girls would yelp WOOOOO automatically whenever a dude would take off certain pieces of clothing. She wouldn’t even realize she was yelling. She was just yelling.
I thought the girls were going to be two older white women. Nope. They were too small young Latinas ready to party.
It was a hoot.
I’m still tired of it.
It was a Tijuana Adventure.
It was tour revivals.
It is the next chapter of the book so I don’t know why I’m writing it here.
At the end of the second tour… the sisters fought amongst them. The whole time before that they were being sisters. Normal sisters. So that means a lot of talking, whispering, gossiping, bickering, and more to each other.
They both texted me that they are alright. I hope they stopped fighting and that they are alright.
I hope they come back for more Tijuana Adventures on their own. I think I taught them how to TJ pretty well.
I got a text message from the one that booked me. It said: “Tijuana Adventure was the shit.”
That’s a great review. Though the whole time they teased me about leaving me a bad review whenever I said something that they didn’t like. I think they said I ended up wit ha 3.7-star review.
I like that other review as a quote better.
This is the end of the counting week format.
Like I mentioned around week 20 something… It’s when I lost count. I still wake up almost daily and think about my mom immediately. Some days more than others. Many days are on the verge of tears. But for the past few months, I’ve been okay. I can hold on to them. I’ll let them out in therapy or something.
Which by the way… I have a photoshoot with my therapist. Service for service. Let’s see how that goes. I got to be way more expensive in everything. In my writing. On my tours. On my photoshoots. But I am not.
Because the book is coming out soon… my blog will be basically promoting that book over and over.
Because I am reviving the tours… I will be working on that more than silly blogging about how I am sad and drunk all the time.
Because the book is coming out… again… I will start writing my next book. Book 1 was basically training to write book 2. And I have higher prospects of selling that one I think… I might be too late to the party. All I know is I get better at it. And the more money I have, the more money I have to work on, the more money I make.
Something like that.