The Pain of Desperation

Desperation.

That's what I think when I get up in the morning. I blogged in Starbucks until 10:00PM and went home. I guess some habits are hard to kick after a year. I had rich, black sleep and remembered nothing, although I woke up several times during the night to look at the clock. It was if my body was attempting to hit the right time on several attempts. It did well, because the last attempt landed me at 6:07AM. I got up and for the first time in months, did my sit ups and push ups, and this time without having to be concerned about someone looking at me and commenting on how I'm doing them.

I check the computer to see if the Internet is working and I'll be damned if DLinkVWR isn't up and running lukewarm at about 5.5megs. But at this rate, I'll take anything moving. I surf as I get ready and when done I pack up my baby and head out the door. One thing that's troublesome about the apartment is the fucking lock. The little bastard is so contentious that I have to fight with it to lock and unlock the door. I know that Paula has the same problem because she couldn't even get into her apartment.

I might buy some grease for the damn thing and work on it.

Picky, picky, picky. I hit the Way and take the number 2 train to14th street, catch the L across to 14th Street Union Square, and then grab the 5 train South to Nevins street in Brooklyn. Remember this tidbit.

I stroll my ass over the The Night- marish Pit of Doom late. My logic? Well, I'll just come in a little late and let the line move into the building. But upon reaching the Pit of Doom, THERE WAS STILL A LINE GOING IN. What?? I stood there in disbelief. There can't be this many needy people on the whole planet. I get on the back of the line, and it continues to form behind me. I shake my head. Here I am, just where I don't want to be. On Line Number One.

After I get through the sorry assed checkpoint I get on Line Number Two, on the first floor. I have my book on me so I read, and pass through the volume effortlessly before reaching the woman behind the desk. Immediately she throws up the attitude like a deflector shield, but I start off with 'good morning' and 'Ma'am'. With those two little words spoken evenly, I had won her over. She sweetly worked on my paper and told me to go up to the seventh floor to show them my referral letter. I thanked her and skedaddled up stairs.

Once on the Seventh Floor, I approach a desk and the security guard gives me my instruc- tions. Fill out Form A and deposit it into Box B, then take a seat in Waiting Room C. I do what I'm told and cop a squat in a filled up waiting room. There I start to nod off to sleep like a junkie until I hear a woman walk through the waiting room. "Who's the two lucky people that get to go home now?" She calls out into the air, and then she calls my name and one other. Shit, that's lucky. I'm never the recipient of good luck. I'm always done in by the bad.

But this was fortuitous, because she gave me instructions to call a number on the twenty eighth of the month to see if my checks are ready to be picked up on the first floor. Shit. And that was all. I skipped out of there in less than two hours. Damn, I never was so glad to have completed something that gave me such heartburn.

I return to the Way, and the Nevins Street station and right there, over my head, on the platform, is a sign that reads that on the right hand track is the 1, 2 & 3 trains running uptown, and on the left, the 4, 5 & 6. What this means is that I could have taken the number 2 straight to Nevins Street without changing for the L or the 5. I made a long trip even longer. Sonuvabitch! I have a heavy decision now. Take one side and go home, or take the other side and go the the 34th street library to spend the rest of the day with Electra and my brother? I decide not to decide. I'll let the first train decide for me. True to my luck both a number 1 and a number 4 train rattle down the tracks.

Great. Well, as Internet connections go, the library has everything beat hands down. I jump on the train and head to the library.

I get there to find that Electra has saved me my favorite table, and my brother comes up to me to talk. Things are back to normal again.

Except the difference is that tonight I can stay out as long as I want, and that there is no curfew.

All I can say is that I am grateful...and desperate

Hobobob