Damn This Heat Wave

It’s really hot as fuck out here. I am stuck here preparing my move down south and not where I should be this time of year, in Newport, RI enjoying some champagne and the wide ocean views. This landlocked life is somewhat of a bummer. I could venture off to the beach and bake my skin until I get cancer, but it’s too hot for that shit.

Breakfast consists of a croissant and coffee. My diet has been complete shit in recent months and my exercises routine non-existent. I’m not exactly a ‘barrel-ass’ per se, but I need better conditioning — since I seem to break out in a sweat during minimal yard work.

Over the next month I expect my life to be sheet torturous hell. And this isn’t me complaining or whining. I gleefully accept this hell, as I am accustomed to adversity. One of my main questions floating around in my head is whether or not I should ‘risk it’ and drive my damaged engine Gl450 down to NC — an 8 hr sojourn in favor of a leased vehicle? This is classic gambler Fly trying to win when he should be losing. If I break down in the middle of nowhere, that would suck. But if I made it, that would show all of those stupid mechanics how stupid they all are. If I leased a car, I’d have to then return it after I got down there and that’s a pain. The logical thing to do is transport the car to a mechanic ahead of time, lease a car, and then pick up my car all fixed and ready to go. That’s probably what’ll do.

Not much going on on this lazy Sunday, other than Instagram fixing to ban likes on the platform, in order to ‘de-pressurize’ the platform. I have just about the worst content on IG and hardly anyone likes me shit — because it’s stupid and pointless. But I get why kids feel pressured to get likes — such a stupid thing to worry about in a world designed to kill you in so many ways. That was grim.

Go read a book, listen to some Al Bowlly, and make yourselves a Mojito and fuck off.