The Laugh, The Lies, The Sins

Houston we have ignition.
We have first stage ignition. A clean burn, Repeat a clean burn. Entering orbital rotation, systems nominal, preparing for landing. This is amazing Houston, amazing.

My doorbell rings. Rings, rings again. I'm not going to answer it, I say to myself, lounging, balls and all, on top of my bed, comfortable, if you know what I mean. I get up and put my piss shirt on (my long, pullover Tee that I use to go to the bathroom when I don't want to put on clothes) when it rings again. Opening the door quite angrily, expecting one of Paula's crows, I find that it's Snow White.

Holy Shit! Room inspection. I forgot that I set it for today. Damn. She strolls in. I duck to my computer, hoping that there isn't any porn on it. No, to my relief there isn't. I go to my bed, straightened the covers but it's still crumpled. The window sill, neat and orderly. I had just washed dishes, cleaned the sink and countertop, good. My desk, oh yes, it's covered with clutter, but that clutter is the bulk of my court case, I can't move it. The floor, I swept; my dirty clothes, in a neat, folded pile in the corner. Also good. She finds nothing wrong with the apartment. Did I have any complaints. I tell her about the guy constantly slamming his door because the lock will not catch and he is too stupid to go to the super for some reason. She says she'll look into it. No she won't. That's why I say, she missed her calling in porn.

I get ready and I go to Dr. D's group and suffer through that. It's not that I don't like the group, I just don't like being there. But then again, in all honesty, where DO I like to be? Home, being left alone. Not being bothered, being left the fuck all alone. I am a shut in, I've lost my trust in the world, in life in general. I hide from everyone and everything. A true turtle in its shell, I even look the part. That's how I'll end this course of life, all alone. Do I deserve more?

Dr D. is overjoyed that I'm there, I can tell by looking at him. The scuttlebutt is that one of the guys that used to come to group, who had stopped coming some time ago, is doing bad. Someone had seen him outside, and he looked terrible, miserable, he had lost a great deal of weight. Not that he was fat to begin with. But he was like me. In a half-way house for over a year, then in an APARTMENT right off. No SRO for him. He would come in walking afoot off the ground. Now this. He was like a friend. I feel for him.

After Dr. D. I run to the DMV to get that damned ID. I get there too late. They close at 4:00. How in the Hell am I to get to the DMV at 4:00? I'm going Thursday afternoon, before my 2:00 session, see how that goes. I'm going to walk my ass off on Thursday. My living ass off.

I've walked a lot today, my feet hurting. my back abused, my shoulders sore. Yeah, that's right. You need to look at walking as a full body exercise, because it is. I can vouch for it. I get home, get through the mantrap in front of the building, which is wide open. Wave at the brain-dead security guards, and get to my mailbox. There are two letters from Fair Hearing. Two. This is funny how they are. They will literally bury your ass in paperwork. That's what they generate, that's what the fuck they do. The first one reads:

"This is in response to your recent request that the above referenced fair hair be rescheduled: Please be advised that WE HAVE RESCHEDULED your hearing and will notify you shortly under separate cover of the new date and time."

The next letter is the date and time. October 6th, 2009 at 9:00am. I've got what I wanted, my day in court. EVEN if it's a kangaroo court, I'm going to express myself. If I'm going to go down in flames, screaming, I'm going down screaming. I'm not going to go down like a lamb to the slaughter, I'm going to fight, win, lose or fall. There is no reason for me to be spending all of my life away in limbo, in the Motel, churning air. That is not what it's supposed to do. That is not what it's made for, even though it's come to this. The economy has even brought Social Services to it knees.

Social services is the only rung that I have on this life of mine that is going up that I can see. If that fails me in some way, it's back on the street, living like my brother, from day to day on my wits alone. This is not good. I need this chance to better myself. I need this job when it pops up, and it will. It means that I didn't waste all of my time and hard earned money on skill sets that will be wasted in some hack job that WECARE gives me so that they can say that they found me employment and cut me off social services, to get me off the books. Although this is slim, because they can't even find me a crappy job out there, ha ha haha!

Whatever. Fuck these people. They dominate my life. My thinking. I'm letting them absorb my energies, and not my Novel, which has filled me with such power. I'm writing it with a ferocity that worries even me! I'm up to 700 pages now and still going strong. I can see this tome ending around 1,500 to close to 2,000 pages. I hope it does. I want it to be a masterpiece. I want it to hold the reader's attention for a period of time. I want it to compel, impress, inspire, entertain. I want to do this, write, for a living. I wouldn't mind eking out a living doing that than working in some box folding plant. Like I was told about fucking ugly women: 'If you have it to do, then you have it to do.' I guess that goes for being fucked by ugly men too, huh ladies? I don't mean to be insulting unless I have to.

That being said, I'm going to sleep, and hope I don't have vivid dreams. Eat one of my Weight Watchers dinner, and a few low calorie snacks and call it a night.

My pants felt loose today.

Hobobob