Sweatpants, Cigars, and Being Smarter than Socrates

Another fine day in the life of FU. After my sister left on Tuesday (and my subsequent entry regarding Maine) I dilly dallied around the apartment for somewhere in the neighborhood of five hours. I'm not quite sure what I did or how long it took, but I know the answers are something like "very little" and "what does it matter to someone who is unemployed," respectively. I guess when it comes to these stretches of my daily life, I am sort of like Plato in the Allegory of the Cave, aware of something's presence but unable to ascertain its real form. More to the point, the hours I spent on Tuesday evening in the apartment are not important. What is important, is that the window to the human soul which this blog has become, is perhaps more groundbreaking and philosophically more insightful than anything since St. Augustine.

Who else is grappling with the ideas of time, relativity, life's purpose, the morality of our actions. Don't you see that the "apartment" is really "consciousness?" The work week is mortality, sweatpants are contentment, coffee is family. It's all a metaphor that is interwoven at a level that probably won't be understood for centuries until we develop computers that are fast enough. By that time we'll probably have calculated the last digit of pi and colonized Mars. Like Melville I don't expect to be appreciated in my own time, but that's the curse of true genius, isn't it?

That was all a lie. I'm pretty sure I watched reruns of "Bones" on TNT and did laundry, but that's not important. During this five hour period I managed to largely ignore the remnants of a 30 pack of Bush Light that was sitting in our refrigerator. Somewhere around 10:45 my will broke and I ended up drinking six of those delicious BLs, which ultimately lead to me sleeping in until 11:00 yesterday. Well, I woke up and contemplated my life a little bit, and realized it was pretty awesome, and wanted to reward myself for making great decisions. So I went down to a cigar bar and spent two hours savoring aromaic carcinogens in a poorly ventilated den. This was probably the manliest place I have ever been. It's the kind of place where offers are written on napkins and slid across the table and people drink cocktails that haven't been heard of since the 20s. I imagine that 100 years ago Teddy Roosevelt would sit at a table in the corner and arm wrestle everyone who walked into the place. I was at peace with the world.

But then it got better, because I met up with my roommate and two of our friends for a steak dinner and some Prohibition-era cocktails. This again lead to me coming home and enjoying a Busch Light or two which, again, lead to me waking up this morning and realizing that I make great decisions. So here I am in sweatpants on a Thursday, enjoying a cup of coffee and wondering if I'll get out of the apartment today. Only one more day of the work week for all of you hacks out there. Stay strong America-

Forever Unemployed