I don’t know what I am doing… all I know is I really want to do it.
Be productive.
2020 drain all my motivation and find it again it’s going to be a bitch. But I want it.
I’ve been watching YouTube tips on how to sell more on Amazon, which makes me realize that I haven’t done nearly enough.
A huge public apology to Vinson Sanders, aka StillVinSane. I was supposed to appear on his podcast / YouTube channel this last Sunday, December 27th. And I was one of those dudes who had to cancel/reschedule. I really fucking hate being that guy… but it was an honest mistake of miscommunication.
I thought he meant if I wanted to be on his podcast “next week” not next month. He messaged me at the end of November and included the date 12/27. My brain ignored the date and I assumed he meant that Sunday. I never receive anything that Sunday, so instead of asking about it, I just assumed he forgot. I even told people that I was going to appear in a podcast. I have actually been invited to a handful. I have appeared in 0.
The most important one was Port of Entry by NPR. That podcast is huge. It has a million listeners. And the producer knows who I am. But when she interviewed me on the phone, I guess I wasn’t good enough to appear on public radio. Or at least my book wasn’t.
I got invited to a few other ones on Reddit. I ignored it. I regret it.
I wish you could just write a couple of books and then forget about it and make money. But no. I have to do all the little things.
And remind everyone.
Again and again.
BUY MY BOOKS!
And if you have already…
PLEASE LEAVE A FUCKING REVIEW.
Apparently, it helps a lot.
On YouTube advice, the author talked about selling a dozen books a day and dismissed it as nothing. I would be happy if I sold a dozen a day.
I was in Houston for Christmas. That’s one of the reasons I didn’t do the podcast with StillVinSane… Again, I’m truly fucking sorry and I hope I still get to appear.
Flying to Houston was pretty weird… The flight there was completely full. The flight back was almost 97% full.
The fun part on the flight there… the dude sitting next to me (a guy in his middle 50s I’m guessing) was texting an escort before departing and texting her again as soon as we landed. Because of poor eye-sight, his text messages displayed big ass letters. I was able to read all of it by just glancing for a quick second. Or maybe he didn’t care that strangers could see his texts because he also received a nude picture and blatantly zoomed in on her tits in the middle of the plane! Chick asked for pics back, dude responded “my FB profile has updated pics.”
Coronavirus seems to be forgotten by the airlines and people at the airport. And I was one of them. How hypocritical of me.
I enjoyed my time in Houston. I spent most of it inside my aunt’s uncle’s house playing videogames with my little cousins. The smallest of them all (who is not small at all) is almost the same as his older brother, who in turn is very similar to who I am. Time flew.
And then I was back on a flight back to Los Angeles.
The flight cost $100 for the roundtrip. Gas to LA was around $60 and I also paid $60+ for a parking lot. That parking lot was a fucking nightmare and I had a panic attack when I got there and realized it was fucking full. I was able to squeeze in the last compact parking lot though I saw a lot of people parking in non-official parking spots (even blocking exits). What a ghetto parking lot.
On my departure, I saw police commotion and saw that a man got ran over. He laid dead on the side of the road.
On my arrival, I saw a homeless woman doing strange exercises near the ghetto parking lot. While exiting the parking lot, she laid motionless on the sidewalk. A man was on the phone, apparently calling 911. Another woman on a shuttle van stared at what I presume was a dead woman on the sidewalk.
Death.
Much more common than we always believe.
If I died on the plane, I would have died with a copy of my book. I took a copy with the intention to give it to one of the greeters at LAX (or if I bumped into a celebrity). Or I could just leave it signed on the plane. I did none of that. The book just took a stroll to Houston and back.
Back home, I tore down the Christmas set.
Again, I’m not sure what I’m doing, but I’m doing it.
I still woke up too fucking late because I have nothing to do, but I am inspired to do that nothing as much as I can. I quickly searched for jobs in Houston to see if there was anything for me. Uber driving in Houston is pretty much the same (and perhaps worse) than San Diego, so it’s not really an appetizing option. I did find a job that I feel qualified for, it’s tough, and I plan to apply.
It’s for Getty Images, which should be worldwide… but I searched… they are only looking for someone in Houston. I plan to apply for it. If I get it (longshot) I’m moving to Houston. Other than that, I saw a bunch of real estate and drone photography jobs. Again, similar to San Diego. But not a bad idea to also apply to those and see if they want me in.
It’s the day before the last day of 2020.
Tomorrow I’ll write more.
I don’t celebrate (or I don’t like to celebrate) the New Year. I doubt I’ll be doing anything.
It’s the last day of 2020 and corona magically disappears tomorrow (or so it seems, but obviously it won’t). I have a corona piñata hanging from my balcony. The weather has been rough with it so it doesn’t look nice anymore. I think a photoshoot with that piñata is what’s next.
I went out last night to Insurgente for a beer and a meal, but the place was packed. I waited outside for a good 10-minutes and didn’t seem an indication that it was my turn to enter the premises, so instead, I went to the Winchester and had some beers there and ramen. The ramen was surprisingly good. I’m not a ramen person but the broth was tasty. Noodles were okay. And the pork was kinda bland but still very filling and good.
I’m not supposed to go out, you know, because of the corona. But also because the girl I wanted to date says she won’t see me until I take care of myself. This went out the window when I went to Oxxo for fucking water because there is no fucking water in my apartment and she went nuts saying that I don’t take care of myself and that she won’t see me because of it.
It made me realize that she doesn’t really want to see me. Because I mean, fuck. I need water to fucking live and I can’t go outside for fucking water. She is just making excuses not to see me. She doesn’t exist. It was a nice fantasy that I held onto for the cold months ahead. But nothing is going to happen
Back to swiping left and right in several apps.
I was talking to a chick that I matched with all of yesterday. She turned out to be boring, weird, and oddly aggressive. The conversation ended with a “good luck” and we deleted each other. She wasn’t even that good looking either.
I talked to another one who is a cutie, she bought my book. Success. I sold a book through Bumble. It hasn’t appeared in my report. I sold 11 copies in December. I want to sell 11 copies per day. Well fuck.
Fucking life.
Fucking fucking life.
Again. I want to do shit, but I don’t have shit to do.
Ok.
List.
Laundry.
Apply for jobs in Houston (perhaps).
Finish this blog (pretty much done).
2021 photoshoot (if I feel like it).
Apply for jobs in San Diego (perhaps).
Write a story (perhaps).
Laundry. Doing that now.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck. I have nothing.
Fuck. I don’t have gas for a hot shower.
My favorite song of the year came up on Spotify. Duh. I’m on their radio.
This is it:
I mentioned in the blog before. I’m screaming my lungs out singing it. I’m so emo.
This blog needs a picture. A Houston picture.
I got yelled at on Reddit drones for taking a picture above a highway. I guess is common sense to not fly in traffic but I see so many drones doing the same thing.
I could be filming commercials.
Here is the shot.
More shots on my Instagram, here:
I had to transfer files from the Macbook I got from work to my iMac. The Macbook is 2013 and a piece of shit but at least it does basic work. I can’t even install shit because the IT guy put password protection over that… that IT guy doesn’t work there anymore. I should just give this shitbook back.
I’m waiting for gas to get here so I can enjoy a nice hot shower (and some shaving).
Then 2021 starts and the word vomit continues.
I am still not sure what 2021 will be. Fucking fuck.
Matingas 
One response to “Word Vomit Continues All 2021 – Fucking Life – Motivation to Nothingness”
I dunno, it’s just a guess, but I’m thinking you need to take up some kind of art form that you haven’t done before, like sculpture or film (actual movies, writing, directing). Something that isn’t associated with making money, because money takes all our fun hobbies and transforms them into drudgery.