Time Flies


Life as I know it is going to be over before I know it.  I am not ready for life to be over.

I haven’t really even gotten started yet.

My list of To-Do’s is only growing.  It never shrinks.  I don’t even work and yet I still can’t keep up with the seemingly endless number of people I need to speak to, issues I need to resolve, property I need to dispose of etc.

All of which is important only in my own mind.

The world and her people do not give a fuck about my life, my issues and what I want to make sure and accomplish by the time I die.  No single person is big enough to have a material impact upon the world so who am I kidding by pretending to myself that my legacy is important to anyone but myself?

This lady I know named Stephanie Kelly has told me several times that its not about me and that I should stop worrying so much about having myself inserted into the center of everything.  She is right of course.  I’m just not a significant enough individual to where I can have any kind of claim to making a contribution to mankind or the planet or anything of meaning.

I certainly haven’t broken any new ground in any of my endeavors to date.  That’s not to say that I don’t have a chance to do accomplish things that will make my life count even after I die.  It is  just unlikely that I will be able to do so.

Self delusion has been key in making me believe that the best days of my life are still ahead of me.  Sadly, they are not.  That doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the time I have left.  It does mean though that its time to take a realistic look at my life and narrow down the massive number of relevant topics in my life.

In other words, come up with a simpler vision of what I want to get done, with a realistic plan on how to accomplish it.  Then start ticking things off of a list.  I am going to give this whole idea the rest of this month of April 2018 to percolate in my brain and starting May 1st, 2018 I will begin putting thoughts to paper.

Hopefully there can be some good things happening as a result of this process.

 

Thanks for reading.

 

Dead Man’s Feet (formerly: Feet Like A Dead Vietcong Soldier)


feetNote to self:  refrain from scrubbing tubs, tables, walls, floors, sinks and buckets over the course of two to three days of delirious stopping and starting under the red hot sun while wearing cotton socks and Nike Running Shoes unless you want to be forcibly and very involuntarily awakened from said delirium purely due to the shock both visual and olfactory of your feet when you finally do have to remove the socks and shoes in order to make it to a prearranged appointment.

I’m sitting in the bathroom on my laptop typing this and I’m still trying to come to grips with how closely the smell inside this small enclosed bathroom matches  the terrifying stench that burned my nasal passages that Thursday morning in September, 2002 at my penthouse in Downtown Long Beach. I allowed a homeless African American drug addict named Kevin to get cleaned up in my bathroom.  I really have no idea what he got up to in my bathroom but I do know the pad smelled like death for days after.

And now I’m starting to panic, hoping that nobody else gets a whiff of the sour, C02 poisoned air  and realizes that I, Anthony X Mandich, am responsible for their discomfort and possible death.  It just would go down like a shit shake and definitely serve to hasten my already imminent “invitation to get the fuck out.”

My feet smelled like rained on rotten trash when I peeled off my shoes and socks a few hours ago.  I washed my feet diligently however the shoes themselves  are still sitting on the tiled floor not three feet from where I hurriedly banging away at this story.

I’m afraid that it will be impossible to wear those shoes again without subjecting myself to an indescribably heinous experience forged in Hell by Satan’s demons especially for my enjoyment.

Fucking gross.

No matter how engrossed  in my work I am, in the future, once the feet get wet and I am wearing socks and Nikes, they need to be taken off and disinfected immediately.  The alternative is bad enough that if John Monceaux, my cousin and the man who owns this house that I call home, happens to walk anywhere near this bathroom before I remove the offending shoes from  the house, I will be homeless once again.

With that being said, I am going to sign off of this post and hopefully rectify the situation voluntarily.  Thanks for reading and stay tuned for stank updates.