Depression Over Instagram Girl – Portadas en el Lector de SD – Ponte a Trabajar: Aventuras en Tijuana

Profound sadness Sunday.

Not sad like losing my mom.

That was way more than profound. It was otherworldly. Often described as an out of body experience. Not that.

This is an emo heartbreak.

It’s sad.

But in a way it’s easier to get over.

She’s right.

I am a shitty person.


For the past year I’ve been dating someone. But not really. Because it was all on Instagram (cuz of the pandemic). Life is not Instagram. Instagram is not life. People tend to forget that shit.


I knew it would be turbulent.

I still went for it.

I met her last week.

I met her again this Sunday.

I thought it was a great day. I like her. I like her a lot. But I say a lot of stupid shit to protect my feelings. A lot stupid shit.

She hates me. She thinks I lie.

I don’t lie. I don’t really like too… Lying is just more problems. Why would I…

We liked the idea of each other, but I’m not sure if we like each other.

That’s what happens when you meet people on Instagram.

I’m a fucking Gringo anyway. And she hates Gringos.


We are not right for each other. We know that. There’s no reason to chase it.

Who is “right” for me though?

I’m alone with two cats. And I’m a very complex dude.

AKA.

I’m a piece of shit.


Life goes on.

I have a new therapist.

I’m not sure what I’m in for.

He said something really simple that hit me. “Do you imagine yourself without depression?”

I started picturing it.

I picture that I would be more like my dad. Though my dad is also a depressed mess, he never shows it. Always pretends to be happy as a clam.

I told him I would feel sleezy.

I would be even a shittier person.

And that my depression would hit me even harder.

I’m friends with my depression. Not friends. But I know it. We’ve been hanging out for decades. I know how to tell the negative thoughts to fuck away for a bit.

I’m a shit person.

I’m not the shittiest of persons.

And I try.

I really do.

I don’t want to fucking hurt her. Why would I do that? Like… on purpose?

If I knew… I would never even started anything.


But that’s life, right?

You try. Even if it fucking sucks. You try.

That’s the bare minimum. To just try to stay alive. To pay rent. Keep going to work (the little I have).


Hitting block is dumb yet necessary. Social media is such a trip. It’s definitely bad for humans, yet we can’t avoid having it. We are chimps with magical technology with the false idea that we understand what life is.

It’s nothing.

Nothing is a thing.

A paradox.

There is no such thing as nothing.

Zero.

Absence is still existing.

And existing is nothing.


Chimba meows loudly.

She’s always meowing loudly. Chimba keeps me going. I love taking her out on her bag. It can get tiresome, but I like walking her around. I thought walking her around would calm her meowing or her necessity to go outside. I think it just makes it worse. Now she wants to go outside all the time.

It’s not easy to walk a cat around.

I love Chimba.

I wonder how Bisho feels. I wonder if he knows that we go on adventures. I don’t think he gets jealous. He hates the outside.


Depressing rant over.

I will come back to this text later and laugh at how ridiculous it is. I will focus on myself and my well being. I tell myself that every time anything happens. I turned 35 and I say the same thing “this is the time you start working out and getting better.” I do nothing.

Some sort of a break-up with a girlfriend I never had.

I’ll do better.

And I treated it as such.

Though she doesn’t believe me. And she might read this and roll her eyes. But I did find some strange comfort in saying, “sorry, I have a girlfriend.”

To which she would say “yeah, but it could be anyone.”

She’s right.

It could be (not anyone).

But at that moment. It was you.

Now who knows.

I feel empty. And that’s why I say I will work on myself.


I have a six-string bass coming my way. My cousin doesn’t play it anymore and it was hidden in a closet at my aunt’s house. They sent it to me. Now all I need is a bass amp and a 9V battery.

With my new therapist I mentioned music briefly. I forgot how much it makes me happy. This six-string bass should keep me happy for a bit. Tappy tap and slappy slap I will be going to town with this bass.


Odd blog about my feelings. Instead of the blog about how I work but I don’t work and I hate that I don’t have work yet I work.

I should get back to work.


I should get back to work.

Debería de regresar a trabajar.

Y hoy desperté con ganas de re-escribir mi libro al español. No va ser una simple traducción.

Es extraño teclear en español, especialmente por que siempre escribo en inglés y pienso mas en inglés. Pero traduciré ese pinche libro y me tengo que acostumbrar a escribir en español.

Voy a necesitar un buen editor. Mi ortografía esta de la chingada.


I haven’t sold a book in months. The two I left at Verbatim bookstore in San Diego sold. I had them at $30 and no one bought them. I swung by at some point last year and told them to slash the price in half and leave them at $15. They sold back in October. Not long after I drop the price.

$30 for a lame paperback is too much.

$15 is alright though I don’t earn much money since the bookstore keeps half. I literally just make $3. And because it’s not near me, I actually lose money with gas and travel expenses.


Buy my books!

Tijuana Adventure book HERE!

Paparazzi Daze book here!


I haven’t uploaded a Reader cover forever. There’s been 5 new ones. Starting with a basic one.

Time goes fast. This feels like it was forever ago. It was just a couple of months ago…

Shortly after this cover, the main editor of the magazine quit after 27 years of service. Feels like a different era already.

This was a very cool cover and it was a new designer. I had the pleasure to meet, photograph, and listen to a concert by Gil Castellanos and his jazz quartet. It was superb.

And Gil is a super nice guy. He liked the pictures so much he Venmo me some cash. No one has ever done that. It felt like such a nicer gesture. Salud y gracias for that Gil.

This was an easy and fun one. New column about drinks. Met the bartender. Took a bunch of shots. Had a free drink. Bam. Cover shot.

Another fun one. And I believe I did it the same day. After having a free drink somewhere in San Diego, I met up with Low Volts for more drinks and to do a photoshoot.

I hung out with him, his girlfriend, and the sound guy from the Casbah as we drank some beers and whisky. Amazing shoot. Really fun times. They didn’t use my favorite photo for the cover, in fact, it was one that I almost didn’t add to the edit. It happens often enough and I don’t mind.

And finally…

That was the fun day with the speedboats and then I went camping and more…

What a day.

What a life.

What a year already.


Yesterday, I was suppose to meet with a podcast for NPR. I’ve been talking about it for a while. It feels like they are teasing me that I’m going to be in National Public Radio to cancel. Time and time again.

An ex-girlfriend said a bunch of crazy shit that makes sense. Out of nowhere. She seems to be fine. It was weird and somewhat moving. I’m still confused by that.


I unblocked her hours after I blocked her…

We don’t talk unless is about taking care of plants. I miss her. And I dislike that I feel that way.


I’ll get distracted with unpaid work.

I said I would translate the book back in May.

Well… halfway through June, and I’m finally going to fucking do it.


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