Finding God

I went to Associated and bought a light dinner. Pasta salad, Pineapple juice, grape sized tomatoes, and cashews. I had to stuff much of it into my stomach simply because it's a waste of time putting anything in the refrigerator if you want to keep it. These fucking human vacuum cleaners here will suck that shit right up. No food for you.

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While I'm sitting on the edge of my bed, blogging, God comes.

Yes, I have a fucking epiphany. I See God.

He comes down the aisle of beds, dressed in blue jeans, a black jersey and Nike sneakers. He is tall. Very tall, probably a basketball player, and wide, fat, roughly the dimensions of an elephant. He is the tallest, hugest human being that I've ever seen. He walks in short, cropped steps, and very slow, agonizingly slow, so as to make you wonder if he gets anywhere in life. His huge bulk approaches, reaches and then passes my bed as I watch in awe, the light eclipsing around me as he darkens the skies like clouds.

He passes and I stare dumbfounded.

I don't know his name, so from now on it's just: God. I work on my laptop until Ten on the nose, and then I wrap it up. I'm tired tonight. I curl up in my bed and find sleep. I have some dreams that can't be placed into any coherent order, thus making them impossible to remember. I awake in the morning looking at my watch, which is the very first thing that I do when opening my eyes. It's Seven oh Five in the morning. I sit up and look around. Everyone is still asleep. Time for me to leave.

I notice a manic panic in myself as of late. I HAVE TO GET OUT OF THE BOX!! I just have to. I can't stand seeing Wendy. I don't want to deal with stupid Techs. I'm sick of lying ILSes. I just need to put distance between myself and them before I return one day with a tea spoon and kill everyone in sight. It is said that demons, being non-human, have very soft skin and bones, like pudding. I'll come back and scoop out their fucking pitch oil black hearts. I'm also tiring of sitting on my ass all day, surfing the web. I never thought that I would get that way, but I am. And my Screenplay has grown more and more torturous as I get closer and closer to the finish.

My love of doing the same thing day in and day out is dying....

So I found Flickr.

Actually, I found it by chance. I grew increasingly bored with more time to kill than normal. I wasn't really searching for something to do. I mean, I still have my articles to finish for the magazine. I HAVE stuff to do. But an online friend directed my attention to Flickr and I viewed some pictures there. I found myself fascinated pouring over photographs of others by the score. All posted up for the Internet to see. I studied the ones mentioned to me and found myself transported far from the coffee house, far from where I sat. I was in another city, in another state, could have been a whole other fucking world for all I cared. I was no longer on my fat ass, alone in a coffee house, killing time until something ran up against me and knock me over.

I was free to roam all over. To hear the conversation of others, to see people waiting for trains, dance in theatre, dance the tango. I was privy to a new world that I would have never known of unless I had the opportunity to stare though time and space in these tiny windows of a frozen world. Photographs.

Usually I would be after another promotion in 2142 by now, but no. I was busy Flickring. Flickring my whole fuckering day away. Once I learned how to view everything as a side show, the game was on. I just sat, mezmerized. Give me a break charlie. I pulled myself away from it after I got tired, and then went back to my screenplay with renewed vigor. I plowed through the ending, taking my time, building up the action and dialogue. I worked pretty hard, pausing at times to really work the script over good.

In time, Igor appeared just as Think Coffee got its most crowded, and looked at first to sit at my table, but I was pretty much spread out all over it. He looked about, found another seat and beat feet over to it. His move put him three tables from mine. No free tech help today. I continue to work on the screenplay until SHOUT OUT work arrives in the mail. There is a lot of paperwork that is involved in getting one show off the ground. I get into it, and get a lot done. I even get us into Craigslist. Hopefully we can double our numbers in Otto's and there will be a bigger, better turnout. That's the aim. Bigger and better.

Igor disappears just as fast as he appeared. I wave him goodbye then put my nose back into Flickr. I'm on and off with that, not really thinking what else I should be doing. Maybe I need school or something. Maybe I need to do something other than finding novel ways to waste a day.

And that's when it dawns on me, as if it has to be repeated. I WRITE FOR A LIVING. It's that it just doesn't pay right now. One day, all of this effort will pay off. With improved skills, a healthy and new resume, a screenplay that can be shopped around, an up to date blog. I will turn this lame life around. Just you wait and see.

Igor returns. Oh great. Igor leaves, even greater!

I grumble and get back to my laptop.

I've got a lot of fucking Flickring to do.