So I've realized the unfortunate downside of moving three thousand miles away from the place you've lived for 20 odd years of your life with no friends waiting for you.

Oddly enough it's not my good friends. I can keep in touch with them through the marvels of the internet combined with free long distance.

And no, it's not the abundant twenty four hour bowling alleys or the love/hate attitude head towards the greater Jacksonville area.

It's casual drinking. In my home town I could call up enough people on any night of the week,  and find someone who was wanted my misanthropic presence to hang out with them in the privacy of their own home, provided I was willing to make the semi-sober liquor run before I really got started. Here I'm starved for alcoholic half-friends. If I meet up with someone here there has to be some sort of game plan, some sort of event, or some sort of stimulus for the event. There's no casual exchange of "Hey, I don't mind you, let's get drunk together" going on. And people throw shindigs with the idea that people are going to do more than stare into their glasses while avoiding everyone around them.

I haven't gotten drunk in Seattle yet. And more often than not I drink alone in my apartment rather than go out to a bar. Going to bars by myself makes me feel filthy. I just sit around glancing at various groups of people, either hating them or thinking I would have to get to know them before I hate them too much. And it's infuriating. Randomly talking to people in a bar has always struck me as pretty skeezy, if you're alone to begin with, regardless of gender. And there's no drunk dial to invite people over, and more importantly no drunk dial to get people to bring more more alcohol. Seattle, what doth life? I am out of booze, and thus ends the post.

Except in my dreams the girls would have rabbit heads.

Everyone should do themselves a favor and check this out.

It would be the most brilliant short film ever made.

Last week the United States of America voted the first black man as president.. On the same day four states voted down state amendments to legalize gay marriage, or, in the case of California, to ban the already legal gay marriages. There has been a nationwide uproar against Proposition Eight in California. There are protests against Proposition Eight passing and a campaign to get the amendment overturned.

This is fucking stupid. This is not the way democracy works. Prop eight passed, get the fuck over it. This wasn't a court decision you can protest. This was a popular vote to decide a controversial issue.

It sucks. I'm pissed off that it passed. But this is the voice of our democratic society. I'm not even sure what the protests are about. Do these people think the votes were counted wrong? Do they think it was rigged? Do they think this was like Roe Vs. Wade and was a judge's decision? As far as I can tell the answer is no. People are just pissed off the voting didn't turn out the way they wanted it to.

Life isn't fair. Democracy isn't fair. And sometimes some bills don't get passed. This is the downside of living in a democratic society. Sometimes people don't agree with you, equality, or common sense. Deal with it and save your protests for a time when they're relevant.

I don't need to go into what happened last night. It was a momentous occasion, and I think it's one of those watershed moments that everyone will vividly remember for the rest of their lives. This is one par with landing on the moon, the Kennedy assassination, the collapse of the Berlin wall, and 9-11. Everyone will remember where they were, who they celebrated with, and how the moment felt.

That being said, I'm left thinking. This week has been marked with several really shitty occurrences in my life. Several of my friends back in Jacksonville are going through some really heavy shit. I'm not going into details, but they're significant. Very significant. And they're all fucking downers. Not a single one of my friends is having good shit going on. Status quo at best.

More than that, I'm realizing that my life is truly at a different point.

And this is a different kind of journal. I'm trying to find direction with this. Writing suggestions anyone? I have an abundance of angry acerbic wit just waiting for an outlet.

I was really looking forward to tonight. Death Guild (A DJ group from California that's renowned at Burning Man) was playing at The Mercury, a member's only goth club in Seattle. I heard they're amazing, and I've had it on my calendar for a month now.

So I spent a while getting ready for the show, putting on my best face, my best clothes and getting in the state of mind to socialize, lightly drink, and listen to some badass music for a few hours. I stopped by the ATM for some cash, and filled up my tank. I was driving down the road, about to get on the interstate when I noticed my back right tire sounded pretty fucked up. Thinking it was low on air I pulled over to a gas station and got ready to fill it with some air. 

Then I looked at my tire.

On one side of the tire, there was a clean incision from the rim to the outer edge of the tire. On the opposite side, there was a jagged cut in an identical fashion. While I changed out my tire I realized the only possible way this could have happened. Someone slit my fucking tire. I racked my brain for a while trying to figure out alternate ideas as to what could happen, but I came up dead empty.

So with that conclusion reached I spent the next hour trying to figure out who could have done this. For those of you who don't know me, I'm a bitter asshole. I've been waiting for something like this to happen ever since I learned how to drive. I'm insensitive, rude and very vocal with my opinions. I'm kind of surprised this hasn't happened before. But the worst part is, I can figure out no one I've pissed off lately. Or, more specifically, anyone I've pissed off since I moved to Washington State. So the only thing I can determine is it was a random act of vandalism, and that infuriates me.

Mainly, this pisses me off because I drive a piece of shit car. It's a 1990 Honda Accord. The paint is peeling off my car, and it generally looks like drek. Whatever fuckwits decided to do this couldn't pick a nice looking car to do this to? They couldn't look at the FUCKING BMW I PARK NEXT TO and realize that would be far more satisfying to vandalize? I know people who commit random acts of vandalism aren't the smartest people in the world, but there's being dumb and there's being an empty-minded fuckwit.

And for fuck's sake, I've lived in some shitty neighborhoods. The first townhouse I moved into via government subsidized housing had bullet holes in it. I heard gun shots on several occassions. People tried to sell me smack and coke on a regular basis. Not to mention my roommates and several friends were fond of screaming "Nigger" as loudly as possible whilst smoking cigarettes outside. Funny? Yes. Worthy of having my tires slashed or worse? Most certainly. 

But when I move to the Northwest, a place renowned for being laid back and tolerant this shit happens. I've gone out of my way to be pleasant to my neighbors, make small talk and generally be a pleasant person. This does not come naturally to me. But apparently having my tires slit does happen to me.

I have a twelve pack of beer and a bad attitude. Guess what I'm doing tonight.