Coming and Going

More emails:

Hi Hobobob,
The soonest appointment I can give you is Monday at 2:40 pm with Dr. W. Unfortunately, due to staff being out and you missing your last 3 appointments with Nurse G I don't have an appointment before then. I will see you on Monday.
Kat

Kat is the lady that makes my appointments for me at ICD. So here's a little bad news. I won't be able to stock up on my head meds because Saturday is my last day to get them, and Monday will be earliest appointment with a doctor. Damn. Even that will change, because I already have plans for Monday. The timing of Social Services is impeccable. They are truly the Empire of Evil.

I reschedule the appointment for Tuesday. I'm still going to drop off my prescripts at the pharmacy and let them tell me that they will not fill them. Then I'm on the warpath with Social Services. I mean it this time. Names and dates, I'm recording them with my IC recorder, and getting everything down in article form to send it as a spec article to the Village Voice. I'm serious this time. I'm mad. Not angry. No.... If I was angry I could be settled down. I'm frothing at the mouth mad. You'll have to shoot me.

Like I said, I work better from the tailpipe end of the car. I'm a forensics type of guy. Call me after the body is cold.

I get ready in the near evening, load up my camera with SD chips and batteries and head out, traveling downtown to Madison Avenue Starbucks and hooking up with OBSIDIAN. From there we head to Brooklyn, near where I used to work in DUMBO (Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass). There was once a tremendous data-center owned by my company, whose name I've finally forgotten!! Ha ha ha!! And these scrubs had the worst data-center here ever. It kept being flooded and firemen were constantly called, and shit like that. OHHH, the shit I can say about them...but I won't. Because such a thing can be misconstrued, and my honest hatred of the company might land me in trouble.

But right in the same building, around it's corner, is an art gallery called the SAFE-T Gallery. Up here, well lit and spacious is an area where white on white walls and ceilings are carefully laid out with art pieces. In the center of this space are folding chairs arranged in rows and columns. This is the CLOWN WAR reading. Several premiere poets are asked to come and read their work before the audience, which is indeed an honor.

DJ is one of the selected readers along with Adriana. OBSIDIAN and I find our seats and grow silent as the reading begins. Very talented artists are there, and they go long. There is a set time limit for each reader, and many choose to go overtime. Nearly all of them except for DJ and Adriana. Needless to say, the evening went into overtime. We met up with other friends and during the intermission snuck outside and smoked a doobie or two. It made for a relaxing second half.

I was out of sorts tonight. As cordial and outgoing as everyone was, I was more reserved and withdrawn. I found myself stumbling over my words, choosing the wrong ones entirely, embarrassing ones to say the least. I was fucking up so that I just thought it to be a good idea to keep my fucking mouth shut. So that's exactly what I did. I floated through the audience, and out the door into the hall. Saying brief hello's and pleased-to-meetcha's, as I got outside the gallery and began to relax by degrees. Soon, the conversations were done, and it was time to go.

Later DJ invited us to a lounge in the RICE restaurant called SPEAK LOW. Down a flight of dark steps into a lavishly decorated basement area, the lounge was comfortable and played very familiar 80's music. We slipped into easy conversation as the bar lined up with young women who grew more boisterous as they drank. Some made comment runs to our table, trying to strike up conversation. Being in the mood that I was in, I wasn't very receptive. OBSIDIAN, on the other hand was more than obliging. He and DJ moved into attack positions. It quickly grew late as a lot of dust was stirred but nothing was settled. Email addresses were passed about. Come to find that the women worked for SPEAK LOW and the two noisy ones were the manager and general manager.

We had an 'in' the next time we found ourselves in RICE.

After two beers it was time for me to go. Evening was rapidly becoming early morning. OBSIDIAN and myself said goodbye to DJ and took the Way back into the city and back uptown. It was two O'clock in the morning when I walked into my door. I sat down behind my computer for another hour before I grew tired and then called it a long night.

I was glad to be home.

Hobobob