Happy Halloween

Halloween in New York City.

My brother and I had to admit, it is a madhouse. You will see so many Swedish maids, nurses, damsels, whores, Vampirella's, and so forth showing off shapely legs in fishnet stockings, lace and garters, along with monsters, apes, Frankensteins, Vikings and the what not. I even was pressed into a crowded number six with several Darth Mauls wielding lightsabers, ghosts, ghouls and vampires.

New York is abuzz with the holiday spirit, no matter where you turn. In getting off the Way, I find the block lined with movie trailers and spotlights, one after the other in front of the Box, no doubt filming another episode of Law and Order. More ghouls of the night walked up and down the streets, chatting, laughing, partying. Probably heading directly for the Halloween night parade no more than two blocks away on Sixth Avenue.

This is a party night. This is a drinking night. This is a carousing night. And I can do none of these things. There is no need for me to even dress as anything. I'm going nowhere. I'll be spending my time in the Box, in front of my laptop, my only baby, typing away. I'll meet my word quota for he day and then drift off to sleep, as I always do. This night is just like any other night to me. There is no difference.

I now must eat more crow. Homeless people CAN vote and most likely DO vote. That is an assumption on my part there. There is a one page manual on how to vote when you are homeless on my bed. The instructions are pretty clear. The homeless can vote. I'm going to try, just to see. I know I haven't registered but it says that the homeless don't have to. All you have to do is fill out an affidavit. Well, I'm going to go ahead and do my part. I want to be part of the biggest voter turnout in the century. This is going to be fun.

It's down to the home stretch now. Obama and McCain are neck and neck and are at each other's throats. This is it kiddies. The beginning of the end. A change is coming, if either side wins. I'm not telling who I'm voting for, but those of you who know me well already know. I have not said it, but the policies of the man in question are sound to me. If I can vote, I will, and I'm going to take an unofficial poll too just to see how many in the Box voted also.

I know I can't ask everyone if they did, simply because I know so few people here, even though I've been here the longest second only to one other older gentleman. Or so my count has it. But that's alright if I'm wrong, I'm not wrong by much. Today makes a year here. Or a little over/under a year.

I'm pissed with myself still. I got up this morning thinking that I had my rescheduled therapist's appointment today. Today I was to get my psycho-social evaluation for my housing packet. I was supposed to go at 4:15 this afternoon. I was primed and ready. But amazingly enough, I forgot. When I looked up at that clock it was 4:15. Ass Smackin' Son of a Bitch!! My day is so structured, so measured, that any change is hard for me to anticipate.

Now it will be another week before I get by with this examination. It's hardly my fault though, because I was there the last two weeks ago and ready for it when Nurse G. completely forgot about it. So it's not always me that fucks up. Although last week there was no way that I was going to walk about with the gout in full glory on my foot.

The gout, which is all but a distant memory. Now, as Dr. A. says, I'm on another medicine for the rest of my life: ALLOPRUNINOL. This is to keep the gout from ever coming back. You bet your ass I'll be taking this pill regularly. Oh yeah, because I'm no great fucking fan of pain. And there is no pain like foot pain. It is second only to dental pain. Now I see why when people torture you, they first 1) pull out your teeth, and then 2) beat the soles of your feet. THEN they go after the genitals. Fucked up right? They'll break you by pulling out your teeth before they pull off your dick. Or in a woman's case, I don't want to think of what the shit that means. But beating the soles of your feet are up there. Foot pain will break you. You'll give up state secrets once they do that.

And that's that. I've passed the test.

Now it's just the shoulder. The shoulder that I sleep on. For some reason my left shoulder is tired of lying on its side, with my head cocked at an odd angle because my pillow is flat as a board. I found another pillow, a fluffier one on Superman's Father's bed and incorporated it in my pillowcase to raise my head. It will take a few days, I'm sure, before the pressure off my shoulder will take effect, but I have the TRAMADOL to make the transition easier. Nights are like heaven, days like nirvana. The shoulder is quiet, and I can move it around normally. Life is good.

I never thought when I was young that there would come a day that I would be so dependent on pills. When the nurse dispensed my pills for the day, I looked down into my palm and counted THIRTEEN pills. THIRTEEN. If I count the COLCHICINE that would make FOURTEEN. What kind of madness is that? Popping a mouthful of pills every day. With FIVE more at night. Not to mention vitamins. Good God. Enough is enough. All I have to do is loose weight to cut this madness in half. And that's the aim now isn't it? To do as the doctor ordered.

Now that's a To Do List: don't forget to vote, get my psycho-social evaluation done by Nurse G., take my ALLOPRUNINOL and COLCHICINE, and TRAMADOL for the pain, loose weight..and don't forget to enjoy the holiday.

Happy Halloween

Hobobob