Cycling through a burnout phase. Gonna unplug for a couple of weeks.

Think I’ll head over to Cowtown and see if I can’t find my soul again.

See ya’ll if I see ya’ll.

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Budgeting money and budgeting food almost act as stoic catharsis...

I limit some areas and restrict myself while enjoying the more sparse moments (food and nights out, etc) more deeply.

Finding having tighter control over myself brings me comfort in a chaotic world.

Which is interesting. Need to think this over more when I get a chance.

Anyhow. Not a way of life I would recommend for others unless they naturally arrived at it on their own.

Also have been budgeting a lot more.

Paying down my last couple of debts. (Car and student loan). Anything extra after that I’m shoving into a low fee index stock fund (VTWAX Total World).

I finally have a savings account.

Feel like I can finally breathe.

Come a long way from working at Budget Rent a Car after the war.

Started intermittent fasting. Eating from noon to 8pm. Basically I’m skipping breakfast.

- Have a protein shake (combo of whey and vegetable protein mix) and a low sugar energy drink or coffee at noon.
- Have a taco (flour tortilla, canned meat/fish, shredded cheese, salsa) around 3pm. Along with a fiber drink for appetite suppression.
- Larger dinner mostly of some freshly cooked meat and lots of fresh or frozen vegetables.

Drinking more water.

Seems to be working. Don’t really feel hunger.

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Is anyone working on open source Duolingo / Memrise? Or any floss social language learning software?

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@tinker I did not understand this story but I liked the story nonetheless.

A man walked into the bar.

I know this man.

The abuelita started flirting with him. He looked at me. Giving me a look that said, quite clearly, “What the fuck, man?!”

I shrugged.

Left with the man.

We got a gig.

Time to do the gig.

Fuck. I’m drunk.

Oh, one of the abuelitas is flirting with me. Heavily.

I’m out. Went to the pisser. Opened the door. Saw a man pissing. Closed the door.

Scarecrow has put on Frank Sinatra.


He carries an umbrella tucked behind his back like a sword.

He’s a good guy.

Scarecrow put on some oldschool thrash metal.

The lady from the middle table waited to use the restroom. I offered to let her into the men’s restroom. She said she already tried. The door was locked.

She was right. I checked.

Started flirting with some abuelitas. Bought them two shots each of top shelf Patrón.

A man came by. Selling tamales.

Six tamales. $10.

Took him up on the offer.

He nodded. Smiled. And ordered a drink.

I ordered a Dos Equis. Draft this time. Had a bottle before. Ariel asked for forgiveness for not offering the draught ahead of time. I gave her forgiveness readily.

A man walked into the bar. Came up with a smile on his face. Said his named was ‘Scarecrow’. I shit ye not.

Said he hadn’t been around for a while. Didn’t know the bartender. I told him she had only been here three weeks. That’s what she told me anyhow.

Bartender, young woman named Ariel, came by. It’s her third week working here. She says she has experience working other bars in the area.

She doesn’t think much of the woman on the center table.

The men order more drinks.

They can tell. She’s working them.

They just like the attention. Like the entertainment. Something different from the same thing every night.

They’ll trade whatever she wants just for the show.

Found myself in a dive bar in South Texas.

Something out of a trailer on the side of a salt flat. Close to the Gulf. Folks drinking Dos Equis.

There’s a center table. A lady working four Mexican men. She says she don’t speak Spanish. She does. The men are speaking with each other, thinking she doesn’t know. She does.

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