Could I Even Care Less

I'm doing pretty good.

I wake up, get ready and head out for my blood test. I yawn often. I take the Way and get to the place and zip right over to the room for the blood test, give them my paperwork and they take all of it. All of it. Now, I had already copied it and I got nothing back from them, and I didn't think I would. I didn't bother asking them to sign anything and give me a copy because I knew they would look at me as if I took my head off and was talking to them through the hole in my neck.

I feel stupid having to ask people everywhere that I need paperwork from them for being here. When I tell them fucks at the Roach Motel this they make it sound like technicians and receptionists are just hopping up and down to sign off on your whereabouts. NOBODY wants to accept responsibility for a grown man! This is a damned if you do damned if you don't situation. That's why I'm going to forge everything. Yeah, that's right, from this point on, if they don't sign shit, instead of getting an automatic FTC, I'm going to forge shit. I'm just really fucking tired of this shit now. Really fucking tired. FTC should stand for Fucking Tired of this Cockshit!

I get home and pass out after taking another hit of LUVOX. In the morning I awake without the cloudiness in my head. In fact, I'm pretty clear minded. I yawn often. I've been eating a lot of fruit lately, constantly. I feel that it's healthy. So the first thing that I do is hit the refrigerator for cherries. Now you know what happens when I eat a pound of cherries, don't you? So I took a chill pill and ate it with some strawberries and a banana. Why am I telling you this? I dunno. I'm just eating a lot of fruit lately...so what?

It's time to get to work. It's dark out still, only 4:00 in the morning. I take out my copies of the paperwork that I didn't get signed. I get two pens, a black and a blue. I take a piece of paper and practice several times and I'm surprised just how much my penmanship resembles itself no matter how hard I try to change it. I'm a terrible forger. But what the fuck. I take the black pen and forge both papers. The handwriting looks exactly the same as mine and the same as each other. I even used the same black pen on both instead of using the blue pen on the other. Shit, I know what I won't look for a career in.

Now if this shit passes.... wha? Suddenly I realize something! I go through my folder and find a doctor's note from Dr. A. Oh shit, it's over two days old, which is the deadline for all documents to be turned in. Fuck! Why is this shit to hard for me all of a sudden? I can't seem to get anything right here. I sit in front of the computer. I try to concentrate and I find that, although I'm a little tired, I am not trying to think THROUGH the LUVOX like yesterday. My brain seems unmolested. Everything is back to normal, except I'm missing one thing, the confused state that I had been under. As if the blackboard of my brain that had had so many of my concerns and anxieties scribbled on it had be wiped clean. I am not nervous or worried about anything. I have just forged documents terribly to give to FEGS. Now before, I would be sitting here fretting, worrying that I would be caught. Catastrophizing. Right now, I don't feel shit.

Any moron will be able to tell that I forged those documents but I really don't care. If they want to FTC me, I don't give a shit. In fact, there's nothing that I do feel shit about. I am an empty shell. It feels strangely good. I don't mean I don't care about ANYTHING. I mean I care about my life, my friends and my responsibilities for the day. I'm just not WORRYING about these things. What? Me Worry? I yawn often. I am behind one letter, by not going in today, I'll be behind two. Unless I fax all of this shit in. So, I scan, load and fax all of it to FEGS. Now, my only chance of getting through this is if the number of my letters raise the noise to signal ratio.

I am sitting behind my computer one moment, I wake up the next. I wake up? I look at the clock. I had over slept. Shit! How in the Hell could I have done that?? I was an hour late. Fuuuuuck. My muscles would not move to the emergency, my thoughts now cloudy, my muscles weak. I was really tired. I yawn often. I am just too tired to get up and run out and fight through the Way to get to the Roach Motel late.

I turn around and curl up into bed. Fuck! Here comes FTC time. If this was a real job, I would call in sick. This is where FEGS is different from real life. It's more like children needing doctor's letters to prove where we were. I wake up. Three hours later feeling much better. I jump behind my computer and start typing away. I'm not concerned in the least about my absenteeism. I'll deal with their shit when it comes my way. FTC may mean a great deal of difficulty but there was no other choice.

I sleep often during the day. My dreams are black like soot. When I do get up I work on my blog and the Handbook. I have the shakes. Where did they come from? I mean all over, like I'm suffering from a chill, and on top of that, I'm tired. I sleep a lot. I wake up and it's Nine O'clock. I've slept the day away. I feel good though. I feel great in fact. I wake up and I'm not even achy. I sit in front of the computer and read email and surf.

I compose poetry for the first time in a long time. I like the direction that it's going in although one tire seems to be stuck in the same puddle of mud. That's the only way to explain it. It looks like it will soon be time for another Blurb book. Like I promised, this year at the annual poetry reading I'm going to have books to sell. That's been one of my greatest dreams. So far, I'm right on course for that.

Tomorrow will be a whole new day.

Honestly, I really don't care.

Hobobob