PART 11 OF ANDY SWEAT’S EPIC ADVENTURE OF PLOWING THROUGH CASH AND ASS. GET THE BACK STORY HERE.
This is what happened: I got hit by a truck about a year ago, and I got 500K to compensate me for my bones shattering and for the spinal fluid leaking from my ears. Since then, I’ve burned bridges. I’ve lied about my identity. I’ve isolated myself in a world of booze, whores and holidays. And it all seems like a giant blackout, now. This isn’t an ‘I found God’ kind of story. Though Lord knows if I get my hands on 500K again… This is just the story of how, for one year, I became Dennis Wilson, Bukowski and Hank Moody all rolled into one hot mess.
The Downtown Los Angeles streets are still coated with urine. Skid Row is still littered with needles and come rags. The process of gentrification continues with trendy restaurants sprouting up, talks of white washed cable cars in the works and a football stadium seems imminent. I’ve blown through all my “wad of cash” yet has somehow managed to earn enough to stay in this junky wasteland where wealthy people like to hide and hang out.
My drive to get my hands on cash has never been more sinister. There are a few promising things for me in the works which could land me some cash. But promising means shit until that check is in your hands. As of right now, I’m sitting in this shitty coffee shop writing articles that hardly pay. Things might be different when I actually earn the big payday instead of getting a dump money from being hit by a minivan. But most likely not. Cash is cash no matter how you get it.
The hardest part about writing the “Blowing My Wad” articles is the fact I haven’t been too far removed from these experiences I’ve been writing about. If I were 35, married, kids and financially set… I might have written these stories with a different tone. But I am just 27 and there’s something raw about retelling these experiences from such a near vantage point. If I wrote these at a different, later time in my life… Hindsight, regret, and wisdom would’ve have all slithered their way into these stories, staining what actually happened and how I felt in the moment.
Right now… I don’t want those kids. I don’t want that wife. I don’t want that white picket fence with a fucking dog and a 9-to-5 cubicle gig. What I DO WANT is my life back. That high lifestyle living where I couldn’t tell a difference between vaginal fluids and Scotch. I want that life of lining up a row of ass in Panama and burying myself between the cheeks for however long I payed the pimp for rent. I’m tired of just squeaking by, money to barely pay the rent, and people not knowing if I am dead or alive.
If going broke ever did me any good it is this: FOCUS. I’ve never wanted something so badly in my entire life. To get back on top. To earn a big wad of cash. To prove people wrong. To play out the rest of my adventures and fantasy life however I please. But this time… for keeps.
Urine-soaked downtown streets
Over the past few months I’ve been busting my ass, putting myself in a position to crawl off the urine-soaked downtown streets and actually have a wad of cash again. Maybe this time I will actually make a few investments. “Blowing My Wad” was the story of a 25 year-old guy who played by the book his whole life. Who listened when folks told him: Be a good Catholic boy. Play sports. Don’t be a fag. Go to college. Get a job. Get a girlfriend. Build that 401k. Only drink socially. Keep PDA to a minimum. Play by the rules. Play by the rules. PLAY BY THE RULES.
That Dodge minivan was a miracle. A fucking rebirth. The worst event in my life was the best thing that ever happened to me. It’s given me more valuable lessons and experiences that most people could ever drum up. I’m never going back to playing by the rules.
I say goodbye to the Blowing My Wad series for now. I plan on coming back when I have more tales to tell and, hopefully, I’m sitting in a different position from where I am at this very moment.
It has to get better than where I’m at right now.
It just has to.
Kurt Vile “He’s Alright”
Related on The Smoking Jacket:
Blowing My Wad Part 1: How I Got Hit By a Dodge Minivan and Pissed 500K on Booze,
Whores, and Designer Furniture
Blowing My Wad Part 2: Chicago Whores
Blowing My Wad Part 3: 2 Weeks with Pornstar Maggie May
Blowing My Wad Part 4: Muerto in Bocas Del Toro
Blowing My Wad Part 5: The Wonder Years
Blowing My Wad Part 6: Shemales
Blowing My Wad Part 7: Baby Mama Concierge in Cathedral City
Blowing My Wad Part 8: Hollywood Munch Party
Blowing My Wad Part 9: Edie Sedgwick Locked Me in Her Country Basement
Blowing My Wad Part 10: Porn Try-outs
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