Tag: stories

books, love, money, relationships, solitude, work

The Free Time Tester… a cautionary Tale.

Posted on by Dmitry

After all, the best part of a holiday is perhaps not so much to be resting yourself, as to see all the other fellows busy working – Kenneth Grahame


My worst fear came true. I became a food service manager after college. Fast food. I remember thinking about this years ago. Thinking about all of these hundreds of thousands of people all over America. Wondering how they do it. How the fuck do they do it?

And then I became one.

How did I end up here? Well. I suppose I had more drinking nights than book nights in college, and I ended up with a heartbreaking 2.93 GPA. If I had gotten a 2.95, I could just put a 3 on my resume, and get some decent interviews, maybe. But.. this.. this 2.93 meant options were limited. I thought about going for a real estate license, but I’ve already met too many annoying broads in that field. I’m dumb because I’m a drunk. They’re just dumb by default, you know? You know what I’m saying? Food service actually seemed like the lesser evil.

About a year out of college, a more intriguing opportunity came my way via an old roommate. He was at one of the AI companies, and said they were looking to hire FREE TIME testers. They figured pretty soon jobs were really going to disappear rather fast, and the government gave them a grant to study how normal people might respond to all the leisure.

It was a quick phone interview with a Mr. Morgan.

I first asked why they don’t just hire Homeless people.

“They’re just different,” he said.

Then, I had to point out that it’s not a great experiment because if everyone really does become unemployed in the future, this lifestyle would become a social norm, not an aberration. He said that’s really clever, but he still had to hire 5 guys in this town.

Was I in or out?

So what’s the deal? The study lasts for 60 days. I’d get 50 bucks a day, paid weekly. I’m supposed to avoid any activity I would consider work. I’m supposed to ask 3 local strangers out on dates, and report how that goes. Report any police contact, also.

As expected, the first week was a very welcome holiday. Basically, I’d get drunk and go to the movies.

How about some exercise? Sure, I can do some jogging. What bliss.

3 weeks in, the company called to remind me that I had to look for a date. And it should be someone I haven’t met yet.

Could be tricky.

I remembered that the library had social events and book readings every other week or so. Here we go. A friendly little thing, it seems. The name’s Sally.

Sally was some kind of social worker. I told her about my little adventure and she gave me a frown.

I said I actually tried to get out of it at the interview, but I also really needed a change. How about Sushi?

Sushi it is.

“So what do you Actually want to do?”

Oh. You mean like.. professionally? For the rest of my life?

“Sure… something like that” says Sally.

I remembered that I always fucking hated these conversations. Am I going to impress her with a lofty goal? Should I err on the side of humility maybe? Let’s try to come up with something honest, and see if that works.

“I guess I wanted to be a lawyer and a judge,” I say. “But the only class I failed in college was Logic. So now.., now I am just lost and confused.”

There’s more to life than logic! You’re young. I’m sure you’ll find something satisfying. You got a favorite book?

Sure, I like Camus. I keep wondering if his “accident” was actually a suicide. He seemed like the type, right?

“As I recall, he wasn’t driving”

Well, I guess you know more than I do. I wasn’t there. Believe half that you see, and nothing you read, right?

“Yeah, I think I heard that one somewhere…”

“Well.. how’s this going so far? You got other plans tonight, or should we go get a drink somewhere?”

I think I do have plans… let’s maybe chat again in a few, okay?

No problem…

So that was Sally. I went to the bar anyway and tried to flirt with the bartender. Maybe I can count that too.

So, the first month went by. It was rather uneventful. I began to feel a little empty, and I began to dread going back to work. Fucking food service. How the hell did I end up here? I don’t think these jobs are going anywhere. People always need to go somewhere where someone’s nice to them. Someone that’s not a goddamn robot. I think that’s what I’ll tell Morgan at the debrief.

I want to grow. I want to have a sense of accomplishment. But how is that going to work? If the same fat fucks are always hungry the next day. On Day 57 I got arrested for peeing in an alley behind a bar. Well, whaddya know… I guess idle hands are the devil’s workshop.

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books, life, love, relationships, school, solitude, take it easy, work, writing

basic pleasure model

Posted on by Dmitry

Dedicated to one or two women who maybe liked me.. years ago. and inimitable… Philip K. Dick.

For those of you who skipped their women’s studies classes, first-wave feminism got women the vote; second-wave got them employed and divorced; third-wave is busy making them porn stars. More or less – Kathleen Parker

Someone once told me that I was good enough looking, that if I were just nice to girls, I could probably get laid pretty often. I don’t think I ever actually tried doing it that way.

These are the phases that you go through, I suppose. You’re young. You’re surrounded by people. You’re anxious. and Annoyed. You drink. You’re alone. You’re afraid of dying alone. I think eventually you figure out… alone might be kind of nice. Because you’re so goddamn tired of being nice to people. Would anyone ever really love the real you? Doubtful… Someone wise once said.. what you really want doesn’t actually exist in reality. Now you go and think about that one…

Lucky for me, I was the only one at that fucked up party who actually figured out her costume – Pris. And you don’t dress like that.. unless you want some. Am I right or am I Right?

She wasn’t perfect.. but you know what, she was pretty close. The only question now is, could I actually leave behind this fucking self-pity I had become so addicted to. Senior year. I think I really was doing these calculations somewhere in the back of my mind. Just imagine. If I don’t get laid THIS year.. then shit. I could actually keep feeling sorry for myself FOREVER. I mean look, I didn’t even get any pussy in college. What are they going to say to that? This is America, and there ain’t a worse punishment imaginable.. Look at him. He didn’t even get any pussy in college. Right?

So what’s the plan going to be here? We close. We start talking about our parents.. and the future perhaps… I hope that when I actually have to see these other parents, they’ll hate me enough that I don’t have to feel too bad about the inevitable breakup. Ideally, I can get enough sex out of this and be done with her by Christmas.

So you live in this house? (She jolts me out of the daydream)

Uh.. no, Jerry does. Let me talk to a couple people first, then we’ll get going.

I never said I’m going home with you! I was just wondering. I think the girls and I have other plans.

Whatever. Give her space.

A few drinks later she does wander over to the couch, and again starts chatting.

So you said you don’t live far, is that right?

I like your type, I say…

Which is?

You’re the type who’ll have a lot of regrettable sex because you’re afraid you can’t get the guy you really want to be with.

It took a few seconds for her to start laughing.

She came back with the usual, I guess that’s what college is for, isn’t it?

You wanna watch Blade Runner with me or no?

We do indeed end up at my place pretty soon that night. I never even have to meet the parents. She found some other inebriate between Thanksgiving and Christmas. I guess it’d be worse if she were perfect.

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books, creativity, language, medicine, relationships, solitude, take it easy, work

the Law of Conservation of Energy

Posted on by Dmitry

Law of Conservation of Energy.

All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream. Edgar Allan Poe.

No, we’re not going to talk too much about Physics. maybe toward the end there.

Maybe I’m a weak writer. But I like to think that I am stingy with writing because women were always stingy with sex. Well, except that one time.

What I had in mind was writing a tale about a fellow who progressively does less.. and less, and less.. until he turns into.. some kind of plant. Some oak trees live for centuries. Did I get that from somewhere? Someone? I don’t know.. Probably. Let me know if it sounds familiar. nothing comes to mind right now.

What is it now.. almost 40. Well. Like I said before.. I’ve outlived J.K. Toole.. and that guy who wrote Leaving Las Vegas. O’Brien. I still like to see a doctor once a year. He usually says something about my liver enzymes. The only real question I have is if I’ll live long enough to get Social security. Free money, at last.

Almost daily I am horrified by things my parents say. Horrified. But, they’re the employable ones in this household. Explain that to me. It is only by confusing and distracting these “normal” people do we get to avoid Apocalypse. They never get enough time to put their foolishness into action. I do. they always have some fucking appointment.. or bill to pay.. some equally insane relatives to talk to.

I do not bother my head about these things…

I watch people run around as if they have cancer (terminal), but to me it seems like they really just forgot to water their plants. Once. Why do you need so many plants?

So, you see, for all practical purposes, I have cracked immortality. I have something like 8500 days left until retirement. What.. what haven’t I done. Always wanted a boat, I guess. But the nice ones are expensive. Would I like to travel somewhere? No. I don’t…

A few weeks ago I figured out I can pee and brush my teeth simultaneously. I used to not brush my teeth at all for weeks.. sometimes. but now, I realized I do have a free hand for most of the time that I am peeing. So I can be slightly more presentable. Remember that? We always get what we need. But not always what we want. Peeing, in the bathroom is a pretty hard requirement. Everything else is kind of a wish-list item. I don’t really see what I get out of it.

What. what are we Really here for? I watched one of the movies about Yogananda recently. As the prospective disciple bows, the great Guru asks if he struggles with Sex, Wine or Money.

No, sir. Not a problem at all. if there’s money, I usually buy Sex. And wine. Hehe. He didn’t say that. I did.

No, I suppose I’m not monk material. But I always had some suspicion that there must be some logic behind all the insanity I see. In the mind of God, at some quantum level, if you go far enough back.. or deep into the cells and atoms, maybe I’ll figure something out and things will make sense. Maybe I’ve got to help the person I screwed over 7 lifetimes ago. and THEN I would feel complete and satisfied. But where is this person? I need a sign.

Time to go see the Doctor, I guess.

imdb.com/title/tt3197802/

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books, love, relationships, solitude, writing

how do you know what you’re gettin?

Posted on by Dmitry

The latest short story from Dmitry Dyatlov.

But basically true.

This drinking thing… it’s not gonna end well. It usually doesn’t end well, you know?

That’s what the guy said after he dropped me off at the annual AA picnic.

Come on, man. Give me a break. I’ve been sober all day. And yesterday, too.

you know, it’s like the Girls always say. That’s ANCIENT HISTORY.

Why are we talking about what I did last month?? or said last week…?

Just move on and be positive!

Right.

But, I mean he has a point. I heard someone else say at one of these self-help things that you have to imagine the Worst thing that can happen. and then be okay with it.

Let’s try that out for a minute.

So what Is the worst thing that can happen? I like messing around by the railroad sometimes. It’s usually pretty quiet, ya know? They got these barbed wire fences here and there. They used to have cops, too. to catch trespassers. but haven’t seen that recently. So let’s say I go ahead and poke an eye out. Or maybe both. Sometimes I get my shit stuck on those wires, and you never know. I guess I could fall over and stab myself in the eye one of these days. Drunk.

Imagine being blind. Is that so bad? Well. you know there’s 5 senses. My other 4 are still pretty good. I’m tired of reading books anyway. I guess I’ve seen enough. And my parents keep telling me I should be on disability. No one wants to hire me, so I should be getting disability. That’s the kind of fucked up logic I have to deal with, every day. Dr. Bob said his parents were pretty smart. I can’t say that about my parents. I just can’t.

So, here you go, Mom and Dad. Here’s a genuine handicap. I can go ahead and apply for social security now.

And then people will feel sorry for me, and they might ask, well what do you WANT? I love that game. You never get what you want, but it’s fun to think about. I guess I’d say the same thing I say now. I want a hooker that looks like Sarah Silverman, with tits. Big tits. I’ve seen them. I’ve seen 3 girls like that, in real life, and 4 more in the adult films. They’re out there. shouldn’t be so hard to find.

But then… you know. how will I know? Can I really know for sure she looks like Sarah Silverman? I guess I’d touch her hair, to see if it’s long enough. I guess I don’t really care about the color. I’m blind, remember. I would definitely know if the tits are big. I’d lift her up to make sure she’s not heavy. So yeah, I guess I’d have a pretty good idea about what I’m getting. And then we’d have sex.

How do you know what you’re gettin?

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