With Serious Limitations

Forgive me if my posts are wandering all over the place. My thinking is rambling. It's all over the place too. I am not getting the right amount of sleep so I think that it's affecting my thinking. It's hard to concentrate. To focus, and the write this blog takes a lot of focus. I apologize if I am rambling on or not making any coherent sense. Blame it on ABLIFY withdrawal.

I can't do anything as of late. Write e-mails, work on my novel, work on my blog. I can't seem to do a damn thing but think. Deep rambling thoughts, like building bridges across deep ravines, huge clocks with amazing inner workings, women engaged in all manner of sex. I'm all over the place with my thoughts. I can't get it together sometimes, and when I do it happens immediately after a nap. I have a few hours of clarity before shit starts getting strange in my head, and there you have it, women giving handjobs to men blowing fountain-like loads!

Everything revolves around women. I don't know. My brain has been doing things too, thinking abstractly. A thought just suddenly came to my mind. I am seeing a tow truck towing away my car up in New Jersey. Just hooking it up and towing it off to some abandoned garage, where some fortunate cuss is just going to give her a fluid change, fill her tires with air and drive around in it as if it was his. Fuck that. Why not just give the damn thing to Big K and let her pay me whenever she can? Better than to let the car sit there and languish. That's my aim now. Get the car out and into her hands before Christmas. I fear that the car will be towed by the New Year.

I send Big K and email to let her know of my decision and she is overjoyed. In fact, it feels like a Christmassy thing to do. I feel good about it. I think I've saved us both a lot of aggravation. Now to get the title. Something that I have been sitting on from time immemorial. It's just that I thought it would take her some time to raise the funds, so what was the fucking hurry. Now I'm going to git-er-done.

I'm sitting alone in the dark now scratching here and there from head to toe. Another side effect. Man, this is turning out to be a hard run. I've got eight weeks of this shit, back and forth, awake, insomnia, scratching, numbness, paralysis, rambling thoughts, wild mood swings, a gamut of shit in store for me. I've already fucked up on a few e-mails and pissed people off at me. That's not good. But I hope they understand, I am not exactly myself.

I edit my book, long and hard. I get it done. Not that I'm finished, but I beat the shit out of it, finding continuity issues, character flaws, so on and so forth. I didn't make an appointment to go see Dr. A., I'll do that in the morning. I work until I get tired, which comes around 2:00am and I shut down everything and crawl into bed. I fall asleep easily.

I awaken, the last images in my head is that of scores of women giving fellatio. Wow. Have all the years that I have been watching porn creeping up on me with explosive speed? Interesting though, I don't wake up with a morning glory. It is as if my interest in the act being done by so many women at one time was merely a clinical one. A doctor from Master's and Johnson's reviewing the data coming from an experiment and not a man in an audience, with his pole in his hand.

I get behind my computer, turn it on, read email, write poetry, edit my Novel. At Eleven Thirty I slip out side. It is so cold it makes my balls rise into my body. I zip up my coat and head out into the street and then down Broadway, marching. I am literally blasted by the cold, which tries to take the hat off my head repeatedly. The women are all bundled up, heavy coats, wool or courderoy slacks, scarves, hats, hunched against the wind. I am bored quickly, I make it to 72nd street even quicker. It is easy, fast. I have no problem getting there. I walk back and it is the same, I'm on 96th street in no time. I laugh. My body is getting stronger faster than I thought.

I go into Duane Reade and deal with a real Dragon Lady behind the counter in the Pharmacy. A real prize of a woman. At first, she was pretty nice to me and efficient. Now, whenever I see her, she is standing around, even after seeing me, she finds something important to do, which is just standing there making me wait. This infuriates me, but I deal with it. I know that if you are tortured by something that someone is doing and you show it, they'll only do it every time they wish to cause you pain. If you act like it doesn't bother you, they'll move onto other constructive things.

Fuck the Dragon Lady. I'm sorry I put her in my blog. That would make her last in the minds of fellow human beings. She needs to be forgotten off this earth as fast as possible. I go home after getting an ACE wrap about bandage for my right ankle which is beginning to show some signs of weakness. I want to shore it up BEFORE problems start with my walking. I'm not as young as I used to be.

My doorbell rings, someone knocks. Hold on. I get dressed. It's the exterminator, he sprays my room good. I like this. I shut the door. I then crawl into bed and pass out. I wake up, my arms are heavy, my legs wont move. That damn walk takes more out of me than I care to realize. I am spent. I get up and get back behind my computer, surfing the web, doing email's, wasting away a perfectly good life. I am invited to the teenager party again. Young people. I think of going. 'Nessa says that she will be there, my brother OBSIDIAN is going, it sounds like fun. Maybe I'll get my ass out on Sunday and hang. Maybe I'll find some hang out partners. People that can get me out of my room every once in a while.

There is a tremendous scuffle outside of my door, heavy things are sliding across the floor, something bangs upside my door. I get dressed. Open the door. Nothing is there. I scratch my head. Take a seat, get undressed, get back online. Then there are men talking, broken English. I can't make out what they are saying but something heavy is being dragged across the floor in front of my door. I get up and get dressed, go, open the door, nothing is there. The entire floor is empty in both directions. I blink, go to the bathroom. There is something heavy sliding down the hall, men talking. I have my dick in my hands, taking a leak. I push harder, pushing out my urine as fast as I can, finish, rinse my hands, snatch open the bathroom door, the hall is empty.

This is too uncanny. I go to my room, get undressed and the noise returns. Someone is calling someone stupid in front of my door, tools are being used. I don't move this time. Then heavy things. I still don't get up. I ignore it. I dig deeper into my Novel until I get tired and crawl into bed. I know it's only 6:00pm. I'll only sleep until 9:00 and then I'll be up until 7:00am. I guess I'll finish this post then.

My body is that fucked up.

Hobobob