Connected

Digressing for a second so indulge me. Maybe somewhere down the line someone out there will read this but for the time being these side notes will be for my own perusal. So without further delay…

We are too fucking connected in this world. Everything is converging further and further into one device. I guarantee Apple is going to create a TV/Computer. Why not? You can already customize a computer with a TV Tuner and purchase a monitor of acceptable HD quality so you don’t feel like your missing out by not having that 50″ HDTV.  I think Apple will make it accessible out of the box. One big 1080p screen that only needs a cable hookup and bang here is your TV/Computer. Hell I can watch TV on my cell phone. I can talk, text, access internet, find the nearest anything, decipher foreign languages, order movies, program my DVR to record and even read books all from my fucking cell phone. In case you noticed it’s an iPhone. What a genius idea to create a hardware that the consumer can continue to spend money through with each purchase of a new app or a new song. I’m apparently salty. I just wish life were simpler when I didn’t hear my iPhone ding to the incoming of a new text that reads, “Hey douche come get fucked.” Also Tosh.o is starting to suck.

June (NPT 2)

Summer -that delightful period of the year where northeasterners come out of their cages and spend a little more time together. Summer makes our jobs feel easier, our lives a little less stressful, our parents tolerable, and our dicks erect and clits hard. I love summer. Most of the year in Connecticut is a dreary grey not unlike the seasonal fog of England. But it’s change that brings the smiles to our faces. In this regard June was the first month of change. I cut ties with my three year job and three year girlfriend to live in a part of the country sight unseen. I didn’t know what I was getting into but I’m happy i jumped.

June 3, 2010 a friend and I went up to Newport, this unknown area that had a reputation for fun times. Driving over the Jamestown bridge the marina comes into view followed by building after low-rise building, and the boats. Yacht after yacht, schooner after schooner there were hundreds just anchored down winking a hint of a world I had not yet known -the affluent boating world. Driving through town brought only more surprise. A cemetery of dead Jews, ironic, bike stores, boutique shops, bars and tourists. In Newport the style of person reads as such: pastel shirt or tucked in polo, boat shoes, khaki shorts, white shorts, madras shorts, seersucker shorts, 11″ pleated creased white belted pink shorts, a trophy blonde on one’s arm and a smile only fiscal responsibility could bring. It’s a Yale smile these men sport. The look that money is the only thing that matters in the world but for me…well…I’m doing just fine. I wish I had an emoticon that could do it justice other than the stupid every girl sends via text after I make some witty remark involving sex. Women.

I turned my Altima onto Pope St. pulled into the driveway and left it there for three months. I didn’t wanna drive that thing. I could already tell by the 7′s and 8′s walking along Thames that I wouldn’t want to get out of here. I walked into the second floor of that crapshack looking building to find disregarded furniture, three unkept beds and walls painted to cover plaster, holes and old green wallpaper. It was 800 for the entire summer. You get what you pay for. I walked into the small bedroom and dropped my belongings. This twin sized bed sitting atop two box crates would be mine for the next three months. In the corner of the room, left there like a wink from God himself, a pair of black panties with pink hearts and a condom wrapper like some girl wanted the rail one last time that day -hands against the wall taking every inch and angry thrust this mystery guy could give her. The mystery girl’s panties and a used condom wrapper, how fate loves to make one laugh with it’s harbingers and teasing treasures.

June brought me the first tastes of Newport. The Pelham, Dockside, Landing, Forty-One, ABC, Westdeck, O’Briens, Blues Cafe -all of these bars and restaurants with their doors open simply beckonging to the viral young studs with their live music, two for one dinners and dark tanned brightly dressed females. The combination women and alcohol will lead to some funny situations. That first weekend I went back to a girl’s house with a friend. This short stubby brunette with a strong mole on her cheek and a get the fuck away from me attitude decided my lanky pal’s dick would feel nice. We walk back to her place the third floor of a regular Newport building -well maintained, relatively clean, and just reaking of that shotgun colonial fusion. She fixes us two dirty martinis, if you like the taste of sodium by all means enjoy your salty spanish olive drink Churchill, and sits down for conversation. I attend to the blonde on a futon, we talk of Newport, college, work, even politics even though i could care less what the girl thinks. I’m a guy, a young guy, and I’m looking for one thing get your judgements right. At least thats what I thought until the lights came on. Her cute blonde demeanor dissolved into a fearful pockmarked concave eyed beast. Her smiles looked like snaggletoothed insults, her hair went from wavy to stringy, and her cheeks my God she must’ve loved having acne because she didn’t let one of those pimples get away. Needless to say I politely excused myself and when out of her field of vision I ran my ass out of there. To this day she’s known as pockmarks.

June was the whiff of things to come. The premonition of more than the blonde with no chin who rode me enough to drip sweat onto my face which I didn’t mind because I took a sandwich break and woke her up with a dick to the twat. Even more than the twenty-year old from UNH that thought the world of New York boys which she never found out I wasn’t. Even better than the little brunette in her VW Golf that decided to meet up for a dinner in New Haven, CT only to have her night end riding atop of my dick with a blanket over her body fogging up the windows of her backseat amidst the foot traffic of Crown St. No those were only morsels on the track to sexual exploration. Things would get out of hand, hearts would crack a bit more and the forty-year olds would come out to play.

This could be the start of something new. (NPT1)

Since this is my first post for a blog that probably won’t see many followers considering there are over 300 million people in this country and everyone wants a little slice of celebrity I’ll start off with a premise. I’m twenty-five, unemployed and living in my parent’s house -you can see how I have extra time to waste on expeditions such as blogging. I recently returned from a summer in Newport, RI where my days consisted of professional leisure. I left my job of three years in order to make this temporary dream come true. Ask yourself how bad the job was that I voluntarily left in the middle of an economic recession. Pretty damn bad. I won’t digress into the American working world -that’s an entirely different topic altogether which I’ll save for a glass of Glennfiddich and a sour mind set.

Newport, RI. A typical week in this affluent paradise consisted of a six day bender. 144 out of 168 hours a week were spent drinking, guzzling, sipping, chugging, occasionally smoking, and tirelessly flirting, dancing(always as an asshole), teasing, kissing, sniffing, licking, pounding, blowing, donning a condom, blowing, removing said condom, inserting again, blowing, then blowing on tits, then eating a sandwich. That description is the first 24. I always seemed to forget the next 120 hours. Some people say when you drink too much memories become a blur. I always seem coherent when under the influence but over this summer I understood what those people were saying. Hours that pass by too fast, drinks that disappear once ordered, and women that seem more a mesh of smells, hair and smiles. I can’t remember half their names but I remember all their bodies.

I sacrificed eleven grand on a zero dollar income in a house more resembling a fraternity yet I’ve never even been in a fraternity house. I drank all hours of the day, fought off desires to fight and continuously called women by the wrong name, but I made friends I’ll forever keep, watched the mauve sunset every evening and learned what life on one’s own really means. I truly burnt tomorrow to save today and I’d do it again.