Anybody need a butler?

I haven’t really written anything since Jazz Fest, but you haven’t either so go fuck yourself. And besides I didn’t finish writing those Jazz Fest posts until like three weeks afterwards so really it’s only been like a month, or two. Holy shit, that was like two months ago. It’s amazing how time flies when you have actual work to do. I’ve been working on this project for a little longer than two months now, which come to think of it is why it took me so long to get around to the Jazz Fest posts. When I was writing them one of my friends asked me how I could possibly remember all the stuff that happened. The answer is easy, I could write more about those four days three weeks later than I can about the last two months right now. Let’s see, I went to the beach and hung out with the fam, it was cloudy and cool one day but we got wasted anyway, Saturday was nice and we had an awesome dinner with shellfish appetizers and baked Salmon and garlic bread. My parents came to visit the dirty and found the heat oppressive. On my birthday I bought a white linen suit and wore it to a fancy French dinner and then we got drunk at the art museum where we did the cupid shuffle with Big Sam and his Funky Nation. Tha Carter III came out. We went up to my buddy’s family farm in east bumblefuck Louisiana. His little sister’s friend still creeps into the naughty part of my brain at weird times. My advice to them was: having a real job is waaaayyyy overrated. For the Fourth of July we had a kegger at the St Charles house and set off fireworks in the neutral ground, natch. The next day we ate left over ribs and watched concurrent terrible movies on USA and TNT all day. I got Guitar Hero and I’m ¾ of the way through it on expert, I’m pretty awesome. There’s a lot of other drunken random shit in between all that, but even if you pick out the four best days, it’d be hard difficult to beat the second weekend of Jazz Fest.

I guess my point though, would be how easy it is to fall into the rhythm of the day to day, I call it cruise control. It’s fucking draining though. Cruise control was a better term for it in college when you’d wake up one day after celebrating midterms and it would be finals time. Now it’s like everyday you have to do the routine, snooze alarm, breakfast, shower, teeth, drive, sit, coffee, etc. and then the next day you wake up and you’re forty? Fuck that man, without music, my favorite neurotoxins, or if I didn’t love my job I would’ve flipped a long time ago, not that long, I'm two weeks shy of my two year anni. They say the key is to get more sleep, which I’ve been on a campaign to do. But yeah, bitch fest over, real job = overrated.

Time has always been one of my favorite things to think about. Assuming I’m not insane, you’ve noticed that first time you drive somewhere far away it seems to take longer than the return or any subsequent trips. This has to do with my theory of relativity which borrows slightly from Einstein’s. It has to do with frame of reference, and it goes something like this: a ten year old and a twenty year old experience the same moment, say the moment right before a sail boat tips, when you know it’s going to but it hasn’t quite yet. That moment, however brief, will feel twice as long to the 10 year old because his frame of reference, or the collected sum of his experiences is half as long. Relatively speaking the fraction of his life up to then that he spends in that moment is twice that of the twenty year old (really it would be thrice because no one remembers being five.) On a larger scale, and to take it back to school, how much quicker did your senior year of high school feel then when you were a freshman? On an even larger scale and to bring it back to my rant, as we get old, each day feels shorter.

Once when I was a little kid I asked my mom what it meant to stop and smell the roses, this is a true story, I honestly did not get the point of that saying, she said, honest to god, she said, one day when you’re older you’ll understand.