I WANT YOUR MONEY:HERE

Apologies, all of my dollars are tied up in a porcelain bird pyramid scheme so I’m not doing anything too wild. I’ve been reading a lot. Working on motivating a technological revolution. Working on understanding the consequences of virtual identities and Facebook.

Tumblr is simple enough; we can be anyone we want. I could have six blogs with six different personalities. Heidegger predicted this compulsion some eighty years ago.

AND THAT’S OK. Because we’re all becoming something—even if that something turns out to be a shape shifting robot with animal desires and human anxieties.

Maybe we’re becoming mighty morphing power rangers.

Derek

I went to my first home.

I went out to Ruby Tuesdays with a few friends to watch Monday night football. I didn’t watch much of it. There were a few cute bartenders; I tried to entertain them. They gave us free wine.

Halfway through the game I stepped into the bathroom and dropped half a hit of acid. I remembered that my buddy Sam just got off the Appalachian trail and shot him a text. An invitation to Ruby Tuesdays doesn’t count for much, but I wanted to see the guy.

He showed up as I started peaking off the half hit. We started talking about nature and California and the future of agriculture. I told him about airplanes and revolutions. Heidegger talked to us both a little about Facebook and the Turning. The free wine had me spinning and the acid had me floating. I did a floating spin into the bathroom with Sam and divvied up the rest of the acid. We were the only shits in the bar at that point.

11:30pm and my birthday buddy Stephen gives us a call. Half an hour and a twelve pack later we’re in a condo somewhere smoking pot and screaming about everything. Revolution, revolution, revolution! I keep texting the bartender from Ruby Tuesdays that I’m far too drunk to be texting her. Another of my friends is trying to understand the rationale behind creating a system that has a Prime Mover besides finance, but I have no truths to give him.

Sam, a sunrise-on-the-side-of-a-mountain kind of guy, seems to be taking the acid in stride. It was his first time, and it seemed like he was really, really enjoying himself. He pledges himself to a new future. He wants his farm and he wants his land. Other than that, he just wants the love that he has always had. Truly, he is one of the sanest people I know.

I get back to my parents’ house around two-thirty and start snacking heavily. My father comes down and starts talking to me about his business ideas. Technology and society, society and technology. Philosophers spin through my head and little dinosaurs start constructing themselves out of the kitchen utensils—mechanical reminders of an extinction far great than any that we might face.

My mother comes down because she hears talking and wants to join. It’s nearly three am. My little sister comes out of the woodwork too. We talk about art, science, and the revolution. I’m tripping balls. I talk about my education, my autodidactic aspirations.

I’m trying to be sane in an insane world; if I can’t, I’m going to try to be my own kind of insane. We stop talking at six in the morning and I’m still tripping. I hug my parents and my little sister and lay down to rest.

I dreamt of crashing in an airplane and telling my ex-fiancé that I was ready to say all of the bad things that I couldn’t hold still long enough to stay before.

When I woke up, everything was peaceful. Four years of being on my own. Four years of being outside of my comfort zone and I’m finally comfortable with that fact. It took a long time to trust the person that I am—but in a world like this, where airplanes have seatbelts and everything is plastic…what could go wrong?

I know that I said I wouldn’t spend any money today. I did.

I had my coffee and my notebook and was trying to sit as suavely as possible. I had the notebook open, my pen was in my hand, and I was pensively staring into the dark, intellectual beyond. A couple guys came in and were setting up to play music. They played a warm up song and I approached them. I asked them how much they were being payed to play music—40 bucks. This, of course, is a steal—Sunday or not. I said I had to leave, but that I would like to pay for a private concert later. I invited them over for forties and Sunday night football. That just ended.

I’ll just write about it tomorrow. The walking dead is on.

Ahem, yes. Though it is Sunday and I am resting, I would be remiss if I did not remind you to give me money. It is important for your health. It isn’t as important for my health as it is for yours, but it is important for the health of this blog. We’re just starting out. We could really go places together.

That’s right—you and me. Benefactor and young adventurer.

It would be like Great Expectations, except a hell of a lot more interesting. I wouldn’t bother with that evil little rich girl and I certainly wouldn’t spend all of my days in some stinky mansion with someone else’s grandmother. Truly, that book is bizarre.

I’ll write another book and a screenplay and give you a free copy and movie ticket once I’m done. You can show it to your friends and they will all have a lot more respect for you because you’ve found something that is actually interesting to do with your money. C’mon! It’s foolproof.

Those unfamiliar with my lifestyle, goals, parents, ex-girlfriends, taste in socks and other undergarments, hardware, and food tastes may very well be wondering WHY they should give any money to me.

I’m not here to scam you. In the end, you must find that reason for yourself—in your own heart. Bunny rabbits won’t die if you don’t give me money (althought a part of yourself might). I will introduce the rationale by degrees.

YOU HAVE TOO MUCH MONEY

You don’t have the things you want and you don’t want the things you have. Your monetary habits are foolish and you rely far too heavily on your finances to bring you security and happiness. It’s a crutch.

WHY HAVING TOO MUCH MONEY IS A REASON TO GIVE IT TO ME AND NOT SOME CHARITY OR HOMELESS PERSON OR WHATEVER

I don’t believe in money. I think it has lost its meaning. That being said, I find that it is fun to play around with. I am young and have very little to lose. I take people’s money and find creative and interesting ways to squander it. I am part of the solution to America’s surplus problem. I’m like Las Vegas—without the STDs or divorces.

Since I started spending other people’s money, I have had a pretty absurd time. Recently I have been keeping written and photographic records of my financed adventures and sending them to my benefactors. Sometimes I take suggestions (true vicarious living, no?), but most of the time I just follow my nose. I will take my best/worst/most outstandingly mediocre adventures and submit them to the blog community for entertainment.

It’s a hell of a lot of fun. I deal mostly with upper, middle, lower, middle lower, and upper middle class citizens. Non citizens are also encouraged to donate. Remember—every penny counts. Especially in the hands a professional money spender. Live long and prosper, earners!