Black & White Magazine

You ever wake up and have a single tear roll down your cheek and not know why exactly? Well this happened to me this morning. It happens every now and then. Just all of life’s sadness compressed into one moment.

On my way to a meeting this morning, I stopped into Oryana, the local natural foods grocery co-op and bought a single twelve-ounce beer. A strong 7% IPA from the Ore Dock Brewing Company in Marquette. I haven’t drank in months but today had to be the day where I had to sneak one in.

Today, I called a couple of British visa consultants’ offices in London, seeking advice on whether they thought I’d be able to take a trip there next year, given my criminal history. The general opinion was that I should apply for a tourist visa after I pay back my court fines, even though Americans generally don’t have to do this. I was very grateful these people took the time to answer my questions, free of charge. One even called back with more information.

A few weeks ago I went on Black & White Magazine’s website and signed up to have a free issue sent to me. It said it would take about six weeks to arrive. I was excited to find an issue in my mailbox, which, on the cover, above the barcode, says usually costs thirteen dollars. I look forward to thumbing through it over the next week or so. I’ve looked through a many Black & White before, and that along with Aperture and Wired are some of my favorite magazines commonly available.

One Sad Bowl Of Mac and Cheese

A coffee, three energy drinks, and one bowl of macaroni and cheese at work. That’s all I’ve consumed today. I had to work all day. I really feel terrible. And it’s starting to get existential. I was outside smoking, thinking about how it’s already almost June.

I’ve started taking photos of the clouds with my 35mm camera. It’s nothing serious, I think what I’ll do is take a couple everyday and tack one on to each post, just for something to do.

It’s one of those quiet Sundays where there’s just not much else to say. I’m really not religious but I wish I would’ve went to church this morning, I think it may’ve helped this funk I’m in.

Not Where I’m Supposed To Be

Today was another successful day at work. Yesterday, I forgot to mention what I ate. “The Bacon Explosion” A smoked piece of pork wrapped in bacon and topped with cheddar, bacon, and barbecue sauce. Today I had a brisket sandwich.

I signed out of the transition house to go to an AA meeting. But instead I met up with DJ, who gave me a couple bucks for a pack of Smoker’s Choice. Now I’m at the Brew. I feel weird. Depressed maybe? I finally have a place to live and what seems like a steady job, but the sense that I might go back to jail is looming. Plus, the weight of loneliness and the turmoil of the last four years sits heavily on my soul. Hopefully the weather improves. I think I’ve read that this can be the most depressing time of year for a lot of people. It makes sense.

I saw a kid I used to know from the parking lot of the Brew back when I was living at The Whiting Hotel and would hang around there everyday and shoot the shit. He said he’s living down in Detroit. He was stoked about how little he pays for rent. It makes me wonder what I’m missing down there, and how I might be wasting my twenties in this town.

I was thinking about renaming this blog. Jacob’s Daily Journal is just a little bland. I want to incorporate the word electrocuter somehow since I’ve started to use this nickname on other sites. The name was inspired by the name of a song by Dabrye on the album Three/Three.