Every Me, Every You

I woke up to a bad dream.

It was like the Invasion of the Body Snatchers, only that these creatures could turn you inside out by reaching for you. And when you turned inside out, you became immobile, and they would eat you like chicken. Throwing the bones away and everything. It was horrible. I was watching them eat people and then they were coming my way, and I couldn't get my shoes on. So I sat on the floor, warning people that they were coming to turn people inside out, and trying to put on my sneakers at the same time. They were coming slowly, and I was on the floor, struggling with my shoes.

What the fuck was that about? I sit up, watching the scene of my impending doom evaporate. It was time for coffee. I go over to Darling and brew three cups. I was feeling pretty good after hooching and toking the day before. It knocked me the fuck out though. I think the Invasion dream was brought on by the chicken that I ate yesterday. I have to chill out on the chicken. But why?? I only eat three wings once a week! It's not like I'm trafficking in chicken wings. Besides, they're good comfort food.

I sat in front of my laptop and stared into its screen. I was hypnotized as usual. I had a big day planned today. I was going over to the Big House and get online for a few hours, and then head out with my brother to Bengal Curry to see a poet friend of some renown read. It would prove to be a packed house in such a small, confined space. I would have loved to go, but as I sit down in front of my computer my right foot started to throb at the knuckle right behind the big toe. Shit, the gout was back for more. I was taking the ALPURINOL as I was supposed to, but that didn't seem to stop the creeping error in my DNA. Why would it wait until I turned 46 to start to dispose of uric acid in such a way. I needed this. What else on me was gearing up to fail before I turned fifty. I look down at my dick. Damn, not you, please god.

There was no way that I was going downtown on this foot. I was going to enjoy a lovely day doing absolutely nothing but stay online. And why not? Why begrudge myself staying home. I haven't had a 'home' in three years. I haven't had a place where I can close and lock the door and say, have a good day to everyone. And then not see a living soul. I just came away from spending a year in an environment filled with people. One after the other marching in and out, making noise at all hours of the night. Snoring and talking in their sleep, passing gas at odd moments. It was a year that I wouldn't wish on anyone. And now that all that shit is behind me, I'm going to live it up in a small room all by myself. It's no apartment by any means. It's no palace, estate or even house. But it's my home, and I enjoy it immensely.

So that is my plan for today. Stop bitching and moaning about the people here in The Spot and stay behind my computer.

But you know that I HAVE to bitch about the people in The Spot. That's what my blog is for. Me to bitch and moan. Like my router. I go through all of this work to pump the Internet out to everyone in the building and I check it today and I have only three users. What the fuck? These people in this building don't have laptops? Computers? They don't want free Internet?? Well I'll be damned. No wonder NAVARRE was up when I got here, and gone after I started getting on. Nobody was using it before me. Ain't that some shit?

I saw Cautious Carl in the elevator and I was going to confront him on using ZAPRANOTH, but he acted as if I was the enemy within and didn't even say hello. Well ain't that some shit?? I can't believe that. He just came in and stood right in front of me and didn't acknowledge me at all. Maybe it was because he wasn't toking up just minutes earlier. That's alright, I didn't acknowledge him right back.

And Paula. Her mouth never shuts up. I hear her constantly in the hallway outside my door. There are all of these shady types going in and out of the eighth floor, my floor. She must be the one that's bringing them up here. Like flies to a loaf of shit. I don't mean to be rude, but that's the type of vermin that are coming upstairs. I don't see them knock on her door or come out of her room, but still, I have that creeping feeling of dread. I should stand in her doorway, peering in, whenever she leaves. Awww fuck.

I'm cranking again. Just plain cranking. I look to my right. I have a stack of dirty clothing folded neatly and piled high in the corner of my room. Why? Do I just not want to do laundry? To fight with all of the washmaids in the laundromat? I've got to make a decision soon, or start wearing retreads. Who loves that? I have work in the morning, and nothing to wear. Well, that's not true. I have a few duds left before push comes to shove.

I lean into my laptop, working hard. I've gone through most of the day. It has fallen away like the skin off a snake. I grow tired as the night creeps in. As darkness falls, and the gathering gloom grows. Night clamps down hard and turns to early morning. It is nearly one o'clock in the AM. I have a big day ahead. But I do not grow tired. I blog instead. My heat pipes make the most unusual noises, almost like construction noises. A banging and a slamming. What can you make of that?

They sing me to sleep tonight as I crawl into bed. The symphony of sound from rattles to clangs to outright noise. I go to sleep to it.

The refrigerator compressor comes on with a rattle.

Hobobob