Money is F------ cheap! in Musings

maybe it’s me or the culture that i’ve grown up in—but for some reason, I just really like drinking. Not in the “I need a whiskey” in the morning type of way… but I like that none-existent feeling.

alex hates when I come home from work and crack open a bottle of wine and drink it in a span of two hours. sometimes i just need an escape from the monotony of life.

i hate working. i hate waking up, going to work, dealing with women, chatting them up, selling them something that fades…or sometimes selling them something that doesn’t exist for them. The worst thing about being a hair stylist is telling women that they can be beautiful if they see me for $500,$600 every 6 weeks…when all i want to tell them is “honey, you will never be beautiful, because you’re miserable and ugly from the inside”.

i don’t understand how people can wake up and go to work every day and do the same shit day after day—8 hours a day–5 days a week—365 days a year. i hate feeling like i LIVE to work and not work to just LIVE!

alex and i have very different views on this and it seems like he never understands that i don’t want to work forever. i think that i should work smarter, not harder. yet he’s happy waking up in the monotony and making 6 figures a year.

i feel the happiest when i travel. somewhere weird. somewhere i don’t know the language and i’m completely lost and have to re-orient myself to get by. whether it’s a cultural shock or an economic shock. i’m fucking bored.

sometimes i just think that maybe it’s me… it’s my thought process, it’s my soul that is not use to the monotony of life here and i don’t belong here as a person.

i told my mother this after my visit and she cried her face off. and it hurt me, because i never want to hurt that woman. she cried because she thinks that i’m just bound to end up dead in a ditch overdosed on some bullshit i’ve taken.

since my mom is so weirdly witch-crafty she said that i am her biggest accomplishment in life and her biggest fear and i was given to her for some karmic lesson.

as much money as i have. as much jewelry as i have. as much credit. as many apartments. as successful. as intelligent as i am. as much luck as i have. i feel that all those things are so fucking empty. so fucking, absolutely worthless and i feel like a hamster on a wheel. and when i tell alex the things i think he looks at me like im on the brink of a nervous breakdown. and i just think…maybe im having a break-through. money is fucking cheap. being born and bred in the ghetto of the city. having my mom sell her pussy for my meals as a child—that’s why i think money is disgusting.

telling all of that to a man who is a trust-fund baby and doesn’t understand that i struggled to be the man that i am today, i fought. i made all the right connections, i charmed my way to success—is difficult for him to understand. i don’t blame him. i just want to be loved and love. travel and experience everything in the world. im greedy in that sense.

i told alex that we should sell our apartment and just rent again and he said “if we’re not doing this then we’re getting a house in the suburbs, there’s no discussion” and i felt like a trapped rat in a corner.

it’s like babe…i don’t need a doorman…i don’t need a 24 hour cafeteria…i don’t need a swimming pool on our rooftop, or a second bedroom or the $6,800 monthly bill for a fucking place to sleep! i grew up in a place where i would step on pissed elevators. my doorman was a crackhead woman with 8 fingers. i live in absolute disgusting luxury and i’m grateful to god, jesus, buddha, ganesh, allah or whoever the fuck is out there! but i feel—i don’t know…weird. gross–when there are people starving, looking up to me like i’m some sort of god because i can afford it. everyone thinks i’m crazy and i need to just pop pills but i fucking hate it. it’s not me. it’s not my style. i can buy a ranch in a Puerto Rico with 3 months rent in NYC. i’m not a fucking celebrity. i’m fucking bored and all i want to do is drink, do drugs and die because i’m so fucking, absolutely bored. and i want to be on the brink of something. is that weird? or maybe i’ve been chugging too hard on two of my fucking $75 bottles of champagne!

i might pretend to be lower-upper class…but inside i’m still that boy that grew up in the projects scrounging for money. fuck money.
fuck money.
fuck, fuck, fuck money. i now understand why celebrities go crazy. if you come from dirt poor and eventually have money— all you wanna do is snort cocaine, drink, be belligerent and wake up, do it all over again. i fucking hate money. i can buy 3 Kim Kardashian’s and still have money left over. and i fucking hate the very thing that makes the world go ‘round. i need a change.

at the narcotics anonymous meetings, i just found myself cringing because i never sucked anyone’s dick for cocaine. i never wondered where i could get my next bag—because i could afford 2-3k worth of it and it wouldn’t affect me. i never pawned any of my grandmother’s heirlooms. i’ve never worried if my light bill would cut off because i was snorting blow. i cringed because i’m really not one of them…and i know it sound stereotypical… but for me it was like…i really don’t find any common ground with any of these addicts— i am an addict but i don’t worry about money when it comes to my own addiction…i worry because it’s damaging to me and my life on earth. i worry that my heart has expanded so much from all the amphetamines. i worry that i’ve shortened my life span by 15-20 years. i’m worried that these addicts didn’t have the means to resources to tell them what cocaine does to you…and i’m even more worried that the cocaine they received wasn’t as high grade quality as the cocaine i snorted.

i never sat in a bathroom with a friend wondering…maybe we should inject it so it hits us harder since we have no means to get anymore…and maybe if that conversation did happen… i would decline and call one of the 15 king pins that get it straight out of colombia, straight out of the poor mules asshole.

i dont think ive ever said this…but im probably one of the unfortunate few with too much money to spend and are utterly fucking bored with life on this planet. where money has become so fucking cheap and unreachable.

alex really doesn’t know how hard i’ve worked my entire life. money isn’t a problem. my problem is life, it’s society, it’s how easy and breezy we have it. it’s how we have college education in a place where education is a fucking luxury. it’s a place where i can buy $4,000 shoes and use them as disposable socks from payless. im not stupid. im not uneducated and im definitely not unaware at the poverty that is around me in my own fucking little economic bubble. and its not like i dont brandish our money in our own country, because we do—or at least i do—i give a lot of money to battered women’s shelters… but it’s not fucking enough!!! its not enough…i’m only one fucking person!!!! i feel helpless to help the causes that i do donate to…i feel bored with my own self and i fucking hate how bored i feel.

im going to sleep before alex sees me crying and thinks im doing drugs when it was only 2 bottles of Champagne Barons de Rothschild Rose (for those of you that wanted to know how cheap luxury is).

im fucking bored.
i wish i had cocaine.
i wish i could break free from how bored and miserable i am in monotony.

xoxo

andy