Consternation's Edge

My stomach woke me up.

I was tired. I was pissing all night long. Every dream ended with me having to take a leak, of which I got up and did. Now it was my stomach that got me up, and I headed off tiredly to the bathroom. The pills that I took last night are doing a number on me both ways. FUROSEMIDE, and BENZAPRIL are water pills that work effectively let me guarantee you. COLCHICINE is for the flaming GOUT in my left foot. But we all know that COLCHICINE is like taking a laxative. That's it's side effect.

Which spells 'bathroom logged' for me. As I staggered back to my room, I look at the clock on the microwave and it reads 8:15. The Brooklyn office of Social Services opens at 8:30am. So does Waverly. Hmmm, what do I do? Gimp, limp, shit and piss over there, standing on long lines and sitting in waiting rooms, or stay home and wait out the side effects of these medicines?

Fuck Waverly. Whatever they're going to do, they've done already. But first, they have to send me another stupid assed letter. They probably sent it off already. I'll just be crossing my termination letter on the way. The thing is is that they'll send my case to binding arbitration, otherwise known as the FAIR HEARING, where they sit and judge you guilty. The State is never wrong or makes errors. But the thing is is that it takes months for the termination to become official. With this being said, the worst could be months away. Really, I don't give a fuck if they cut off my services. I really don't. I'll eat and survive. I've found food out in the streets, I'll find it again. Trust me.

What I am really concerned about is rent. If they cut off the rent for a month, you know what that means. I'm booted. That's it. That's the only thing that I give a fuck about. I've heard stories about homeless people losing their SRO's and shit like that. I don't want to end up the next one. I'll go to Waverly tomorrow, when it is safer for me to leave the vicinity of a bathroom. I doubt if one more day will make a difference. These people sit around with their finger on the button. It takes only a second to stop your benefits, and months to restart them. What kind of shit is that? But that's just the way that it is. It's punitive.

I took all of my pills for the first time in a week. Back on course. Gotta love it. I look at the long line of bottles on my windowsill and I say, BULLY. I beat the fucking system again. Like I said, when they fuck with me, they fuck with a formidable opponent. It's clobbering time! Simple as that. And if you think this is all bloated rhetoric, come fuck with me before I get my hands on them.

Next problem. That fucking missing library book. I've NEVER lost a library book in my entire life, and somehow, I just set this one down and walked away. SHIT. That's what happens when you are off your meds. You get instantly forgetful. Replacing it will probably cost me a small fortune. That's more annoying than worrisome.

I return to my laptop and work on email and my blog. As I do so, Paula and friends enter the hallway and begin chattering about nothing. Like crows in a murder they squawk at each other constantly. And if you can believe it, they also have another annoying habit. Slamming down the toilet seat. Yeah, that's right, I can hear that when the door to the bathroom is open. Alright, so what, I have sensitive hearing. It makes life hard for me wherever I go. Which is strange, because I used to work for Lockheed out in California, building airplanes, and they said that I lost a portion of my hearing because of the sound of firing off rivet guns all day long. Could my hearing have regenerated after all these years? Or perhaps they are just a murder of loud bitches.

But they are strangely not the only ones. My dear, sweet kid playing the guitar is gone. I haven't heard from his atrocious playing in quite some time. Also for the old man singing out of the window. Haven't heard his dulcet tones early in the morning any longer either. It was silent as a church here until SHE came in. A dumb, hoarse, loud female voice that mispronounces every other fucking word. Every night, when I don't wear my headsets I hear her either laughing or complaining loudly. The bitch must be nuts. Out of her loony mind. And she's loud. Lord is she loud. How the fuck can a man live with that? How can her neighbors live with that? Where the fuck did she come from? Some kind of goddamn prison block? Shit!

But this is actually small stuff that I'm sweating here. Blabbermouths and psychos don't really bother me. My problem is that I am hyper-sensitive. I'm grousing over my predicament with The System. I'm extrapolating on things without enough information. We need to go on a fact-finding before we start to worry. But like I said, that's what I do. I fret, worry and catastrophize. I think the worst of every outcome. Which sometimes causes me to freeze up, stress out, or take quick action.

As my GOUT throbs away in my foot like an angry heartbeat, I consider my uncertain future. It might not be as bad as I'm wondering. All of these things may be easier to process than I believe. We'll see. I consider that fact. We'll see.

Hobobob