Ugly Figure at Christmas

I wake up at 4:00am.

I get up, make coffee, eat pie. I am happy. My Internet connection is still down. I am not happy. I sit behind my computer and work on my novella, editing that, simply because I have nothing else to do. I am lifeless without my Internet. But this morning will be different. I'm going to get my ass downstairs and get to Starbucks at 6:00am and get busy. I get up at 5:30am, take a hot shower and remember to lock the door.

Yesterday I needed to use the bathroom, one of my many bathroom breaks that I take during the day because of taking TWO water pills. I go to my favorite bathroom, the one nearest my door, and snatch it open, stepping in, and there, with the shower curtain half drawn, is a woman taking a shower. Older, heavy with loaves of fat on her body, corpulent hanging tits. I closed my eyes and apologized. I back out, shutting the door as she closed the shower curtain, but it was too late. The image of her naked body was seared into my mind. Ugh.

Now I think of my naked body, with someone walking into the bathroom by accident. EQUALLY, UGH!!! If not more so. My naked body would run away hungry wolves, and make a healthy person blind. Shit, how those fucking anti-psychotics got me all out of shape in such an alarmingly short period of time. So I make certain I lock the door before I take my shower. Later, I get back to my room, get dressed, pack my laptop into my backpack and head downstairs. The time now, 6:00am. The kids in Starbucks are just beginning to set up the chairs and the tables. I claim a good spot, right next to an outlet, and I get online.

I have 34 emails. They love me. They really love me. I start to sort through them, but first, I check for my appoint- ment with Charliqua Lovebiscuit. It is for today at 10:30am. Whew! That means that I will not have to bust my ass tomorrow. That's a good thing. I wrap up my emails, blog and then close up shop. I'm on the clock. Time now, 9:00am. I go upstairs and leave my baby, and head back out.

It's fucking cold out. I have a handful of Christmas cards to mail. I'm hustling. I'm running around as if my life depends on it. I hit the Way and end up at the Roach Motel quickly, almost too quickly and I wait in the waiting room, watching half of 'Alvin and the Chipmunks' , and 'Twilight'. From the half of it that I saw, it was quite a stupid movie. That's just how long these people can leave you in the waiting room waiting for them. Soon, Charliqua comes out and calls me in to her cubicle. The battle begins.

She starts off telling me that if I miss any of my appointments it could effect my benefits. Meaning do as we say or we'll make you starve. I don't answer the bitch. She nods her head, "Alright?" I still don't answer the bitch. She gives up and moves on, typing in her computer that she warned me and I did not respond. She asks me if I have been going to the psychotherapists at ICD. No, I tell her. We have parted ways. "Well, that's alright," she says. "We have a division downstairs that can do psychotherapy." What? I'm not going downstairs. "Well, you have go to somewhere Mr. Hobobob." I'm not going downstairs with these bunch of assholes in this building. I hope she took that personally. "Well you have to go to who we send you." Oh no I don't . Sorry, but I get to decide who will be poking in my brain. If Dr. A. finds me someone, it's kaput for whoever you chose. "You can't jump from one person to another, Mr. Hobobob." Oh yes I can. "Oh no you can't. It will affect your benefits if you miss any appointments." That's all right, I'll roust all of your asses and take you down to Fair Hearing...AGAIN.

Yes, being off those pills have given me a new moxie. I am no longer a quiet man, it seems. I'm finding it much easier to speak my mind. Now that it feels enormously clearer. Well, Charliqua moves on, and graciously, at this point, after going to her supervisor. I guess her supervisor doesn't much like the idea of Fair Hearing either. We compromise. I'm not going to their fucking goons downstairs. I get a choice of hospitals to go to. I choose the Metropolitan hospital, right across town from me. So Wednesday, or Thursday, I'll head across town and see if I can get to see a therapist. This is going to be a new experience.

I can't wait to get done with Charliqua. I skip out of there feeling good. For the first time I let them know that I know my rights, and if they want to keep going about threatening me with my benefits, I'll keep threatening them with Fair Hearing. Simple. I hit the Way and get home, peeking into Starbucks. Now this Starbucks has about five choice tables against the wall near three wall sockets. This is good. When I look in, there are two tables of the choice tables empty. I rush upstairs, pack my gear, throw it on my back and head back down. When I look through the window, all five tables are taken. Shit!

I walk down to 96th street to mail a Christmas card. This one will no doubt miss Christmas, but, what the Hell. I walk back and enter the Starbucks and lo and behold, one of the five tables is empty. I motion towards it, and a young woman runs and jumps into the seat of one of the chairs. Son of a b.....

To my right, at the end, the best spot in the house is an empty table, unmo- lested. I walk up to it casually and sit my bag into the seat. I have been successful. I get coffee, food, get online, answer and send emails, and sit back and relax. I am where I love to be...online. I have decided to spend the rest of the afternoon, evening here and retire late. In the morning, then I'll wait for Time Warner Cable, and lets get to the bottom of this Internet connection problem.

The chairs in Starbucks are just a fucking hard as in my room.

The things we do for love.

Hobobob