[Age 29-30] Good Times

Fever Ray – If I Had A Heart.

Ah, the last days before the start of this blog, the lose of Tranny, my disillusionment with humanity, and subsequent crippling depression; it’s not an especially entertaining period, really. I lived with savages who’s greatest contributions will be their deaths, and worked another brutal job – the stresses of both were nullified by love.

I moved into the new place. Across the hall from me was an idiot that played his music poundingly loud, randomly throughout the day – all terrible music. I told him it was fine, simply because he was too stupid and insane to be reasoned with him; and it gave me leverage to stop him during the times when I desperately needed sleep.

I shared a wall with some spoiled white bitch, who consistently made noise til 4 am. When forced to gingerly knock on her door, and politely request she keep it down, she was combative about it; I had to do this in a submissive manner, as she had the usual princess complex, thus had to be tricked into acknowledging her faults.

Past her room was the living room, where a mildly autistic, heavy alcoholic, heavy stoner, thought it was perfectly reasonable to blast the TV until 1 am. I consistently requested he keep it down – again, submissively, because he’s an entitled white idiot. The same idiot regularly made messes in the kitchen, and got pissed, thinking someone else made them.

Lotta stories, so I’ll just do the headlines. A cokehead got his gun stolen from his room. I had to clean literal shit out of the shower 3 times. Numerous near-fires from idiots cooking. Some dude, who had a habit of bringing over allot of guys, left a towel outside his room for a week, which appeared to be covered in shit. The bathroom floor was always covered in piss. An old burn-out druggie yelled at me for half an hour. I was the only one that ever cleaned that disgustingly filthy house. I ran the internet, and those idiots got me over 50 copyright infringements. And of course, the kitchen was always a mess.

So, that was home. I tried to set an example for these subhumans: cooking and sharing, cleaning, socializing, fixing shit around the house, etc, but they were animals; turning them into decent people would require years of complete control over their lives. I think it was the renter’s rejects-house, where he sent all his worst and desperate tenants; I’m nearly certain he didn’t background-check – one roommate having admitted to be a felon.

I signed a 6-month lease, and didn’t have extra cash, so I tolerated it; later, I was just too busy with work to move, and too depressed after Tranny. I was a repairmen for a major convenience store chain; my area was northwestern Washington, along I-5, from Seattle to the Canadian border. A job most people simply wouldn’t tolerate, the atrocious pay aside.

I drove from location to location in my van filled with thousands of parts, doing either preventative maintenance, or actually answering calls for immediate repairs. I’ve always been relatively handy, and had that construction experience, but never got great at it; this job was a hell of a crash course.

I probably averaged 55 hours a week, over the ten or so months with them – I did one or two 75 hour weeks. By the seven month mark, I went on-call every forth week; that meant I worked twelve days straight, and responded to all off-hour calls on the fifth through eleventh days. And remember: getting sleep, or any peace at home, was difficult.

The worst on-call cycle I had ran 125 hours billed. Crazy hours aside, the entire job was a shitshow: our contractor was inexplicably incompetent, as was our office, and the majority of my support. It essentially fell on me to do the jobs of everyone around me, while barely trained myself, but I did the job.

Anyway. During all that, I was growing more attached to Tranny; you can find information on him here, throughout the earlier journal entries, and throughout this Hub. Summation: he was the light of my life, then he left, which sent me into a deep depression and near suicide. In the end, he seemed very self-deluded, to the point that confabulation was near-constant when his perspectives were questioned.

The journal hub picks up from this point on, though there would be a three month gap of little more than crying, gaming, watching shows, listening to music, and reading. For the sake of concision, I may continue the autobiography past this point, summarizing the journals as time passes. I may also add to the individual entries, fleshing-out periods of time. No promises on either.


Autobiography [+] Hub

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~ by Louis Naughtic on February 7, 2017.

3 Responses to “[Age 29-30] Good Times”

  1. Hope that moving to a new environment will kickstart a new exciting chapter for you that will be much more positive and in your favor.

  2. Em, I moved 2 months ago; ehile still depressed, it’s taken substantial pressure off. Though, regrettably, I can no longer smoke in my room.

  3. Depression sucks, I’m sorry. Anyway, was just offering words of encouragement. Take care

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