And Whos Blood?

How can so many people have so much politics.

I see that there will never be peace on Earth. Ever.
Because we can't even have peace in the dorm.

It was Paul the Stooge's fault that he put his foot in his mouth. Not MINE. I had came home, curling up in bed, ready for sleep when I hear the Stooge say: "Asians don't smell. It's just genetically impossible." WHAT??!! I sit up and turn to him standing not too far from my bed. Now, how do you come to THAT conclusion? "Because, Blacks genetically have Sickle Cell Anemia, therefore a race can have a genetic disposition." So what? Body secretions are a byproduct of metabolism, I reply. "Well body metabolism is dictated by genetics." Body metabolism is dictated by how you metasticise what you put into it. Are you saying that Asians can metasticise food byproducts better than others, because I've smelt alcoholic Asians that have alcohol coming out of their pores. They don't seem to be doing too well with metabolism. "Blacks have Sickle Cell." And Jew have Taysacs. Where is the medical proof of what you are saying. You're taking an incredible leap of faith here. "How can you not see that genetically Asians are different from others?" Genetically Asians are different from other Asians. You have no proof that Asians share a genetic trait, which is that if they and another race does not take a shower in a week that they won't stink like shit.

That did it. Paul the Stooge blew a fuse. "I DON'T WANT TO ARGUE WITH YOU. THAT'S NOT WHY I'M HERE!!" He storms off into the bathroom. I follow him in. I don't want to argue with you either. I just think your comments are racist. "I'm not talking to you," he replies. I leave him alone. He has had enough of my bullshit.

Walking into the dorm once again, there is another conversation. Angel is assuring Igor that all of his camera and computer equipment is safe in the lockers here in the Box. Have I ever told you that Igor has a fortune in computer and camera equipment? Far more than myself. Now Ralphy once told me that EVERYTHING in his locker was once stolen and the Techs had no clue how it happened and neither were they going to replace shit. So I told this to Igor in passing. As if I called Angel's mother a whore, this guy jumps out of his skin, going on how Ralphy is a fucking liar, and that he thinks he knows everything. I let that shit pass like the tempest that it was. What the fuck was that about? I'll have to go to Igor again and warn him about that shit. DO NOT leave your valuables in the lockers here.

I call my night a night, and in the morning I woke up achy as if I was wrestling all night long and had no orgasm to show for it. I reach for my headboard and didn't find any painkiller. I have to remember to buy some Advils today. I rise and look into the kitchen for breakfast. Cold cereal and nasty elephant cum. I return to my bed and get ready to leave. Igor sees me and starts doing the same. "Wait up for me." He's moving faster than I am, so I know that he'll finish before me, but I don't care, maybe he'll leave before me. He packs his bag, collecting his gear and leaves with me no matter how slow I go.

We leave, and before we get out of the door Igor has to go upstairs for his cell. I'll see you later dood, and I keep on going. Once outside I run into Ralphy...oh joy. He stops me for chit chat. Angel, he begins, does not talk to him any more. They don't speak. This guy has two laptops now....Angel has TWO laptops??? And he won't sell him one. What's up with Angel? I don't know Ralphy. Angel is Angel. "I don't know whats up with that kid," Ralphy says. I nod. Igor comes out and invites me to follow. I bid Ralphy farewell and head off with Igor, at the corner of the block I turn to the subway. "Where are you going?" Heading for the train. Far from you. I actually only SAID the first sentence though. "Wha? Well okay then," he says. I fuck off, heading to the subway and uptown to Madison Starbucks.

Ahhh, peace. I get behind my laptop and as soon as I start does Electra arrive and sits down across from me. Now I honestly don't mind the intrusion as I do the fools at the Box. The only problem that I have with Electra is that she speaks like she doesn't want to be heard. If she spoke any lower she'd be silent. I used to ask her to speak up but her mind takes such a request as meaning that you want her to repeat herself. It's infuriating. So I just learned to ignore her. Smile, laugh and ask a question with the pieces of the conversation that I can put together. And when she asks me what was she saying, I just reply with: I can't hear you." But fuck if I'm going to strain my goddamned hearing to pick up her low decibel conversation. Some people, and I'm talking about Electra here, do that to make you concentrate harder on what they're saying. I don't have to concentrate that hard.

It's soon time for the library to open. We pack up our gear and head down. I head up to a nearby deli to pick up a Dr Pepper. I return with it and head to the men's bathroom, where inside a stall, I pull out my full bottle of hooch and empty out half of my Dr Pepper. Then I pour in the entire bottle of hooch. This is called Alchemy.

I finish my alchemy in the john and sketell out to the cubicle that I will remain in for the rest of the day, enfolding the Brown World around me. But there is something wrong today. I've had enough. I don't drink as strong and as steady as I can. Instead I sip until I stop early. I am actually tired of drinking. I'm not proud of myself, I'm more surprised. I leave this bottle half finished and pack it with my gear. I'm am indeed tired.

I leave for the Box later, buying several bottles of San Pellegrino water. I've been very thirsty lately.

Maybe I'm turning diabetic like my doctor warned.

Maybe I'm just thirsty.

Hobobob