Fucking Bjork

Bjork is probably the greatest singer on earth.

God would I like to knock her up. Have her barefoot and pregnant in MY home, with MY kid.

Why do men have to always think in the possessive sense. Everything has to belong. This is MY land, this is MY house, these are my tools, this is MY back yard, she is MY woman. No, we have to have everything. I'm sad over that fact. I'm sad because I possess nothing to call mine. Except for my laptop and my balls, everything else is NOT mine. Everything else has been given to me or I have found.

I come out of my room the other day and as I head to the bathroom a foul looking woman with a face like she just bit into a lemon sees me open the door to go to the john. "Hello," she calls out, "Are you the person leaving the toilet seat up?" I think about it for a moment, I suppose I might be. "Well, could you leave it down? There are women back here!" Oh, oh okay creature from the black lagoon, I'll put it down. She melts the air before her with that face as she walks off.

I use the john. Later my bell rings. I never have unannounced guests in my joint, so why should I put clothes on and answer it? But I do, and when I do there is one of Paula's crows on the other side of the door. Oh, what does she want? I look down and there is a plate of cake in her hand. "It's my birthday and all I got for presents were birthday cakes, so PLEASE have a slice." I take it cautiously, thank you. She leaves with a strange sway to her hips.

I bring the cake in and with a fork and knife, I examine it closely. Unless they baked it in, it doesn't look like anyone's tampered with it. You know, like they do to your ass in restaurants when you complain about the food and send it back. They take that plate and fuck it up with all kinds of shit. Drop the meat on the floor, spit and cum in the potatoes and stir it in, put drops of urine on the vegetables, make the changes you want, and then come out and hand it to you.

I always look at the busboy section or the door to the kitchen to see if anyone is there, watching, waiting for me to take a bite of the meat, a fork full of the potatoes and vegetables. Oh yeah, that's how it goes. So in that very same vein, I look at the cake closely, very closely. Then I searched up it's relative calories, decide that I can calorically afford it, and then dig in. I'm just that anal when it comes to food now. I have to be.

Today, I just agonized over my ID's to get. I'm not making any headway because there is no headway. I'm stuck like a fly in amber. I have nowhere to go from here to get this done. I was supposed to walk today and try to go to the DMV down on 34th street and get that damned ID, but I just didn't feel like leaving the house. You know how I get sometimes, I just can't leave.

So, I just do things, like clean, fold dirty clothes, throw out the garbage, and surf for jobs that just aren't there. It's fucking depressing. I soon stop this self flagellation and get down to some serious business, blogging. I've also noticed as I've surfed and covered the length and breadth of the Internet, scowering it for pictures for my blog, I've notice that there are very few pics now being uploaded. Very few people are bringing their photos to the fore. It either that or I've seen so many pics that there is just nothing new under the sun.

I've reached some kind of Internet saturation point where it doesn't seem to be anything new under the sun. NO! I refuse to believe that flyshit, I really don't! The Internet is just too vast, just too large. Not like in my day with computers, ah ha ha ha ha ha! We could count the computers on the Internet on two hands. Back then when you surfed to a webpage, the shit stood still. Nothing moved. Forget all of this streaming movies and watching the news through the Internet, we used to have nothing that moved. Everything was young and new and fascinating though. It was a nice time to be alive. There was still wonder in computer, something different every expo that you went to.

Now, there is no longer the BANG, ZOOM! that computers used to bring. I remember going to fairs and shop for computer parts like women would shop for shoes, and put together our own screaming systems from scratch and the real joy was starting it up and watching everything work. Now, who builds their own computers?? A few hard core hobbyists.

I refuse to believe that I've seen enough. That it's time to stop posting pics. That things should change with my blog, that I should do something different with it, like put a hat on it an walk it down main street. I'm keeping it exactly like it is. Crazy, raw, and plain angry.

I haven't heard anything from those bitches about my adjourn- ment. All they did was send me a note for re-evaluation into the system. Once again through the gears. But didn't I expect this? Isn't this how they torture you by repeatedly calling you in so that you sit the remainder of the day with angry, poorly educated, unbalanced morality and just all around poorly behaved individuals. I tell you something, I could not work there. But it's better than being called into the Mines of Moria, this place is a pretty decent place in a pretty decent building.

So I'll go in for that, and that will begin my appoint- ment after appoint- ment, after appoint- ment until they appoint- ment me out. But that is all part of the game now. Now that I took them to fair hearing. We'll see what goes on next.

They actually hold all the cards. They are separate entities, but they all fall under one umbrella named HRA

Feel it raining anyone??

Hobobob