Stack 'em, and I'll Knock 'em Down

Ha ha ha Virtual What???

Yeah, I caved in and called Cornell University to enroll in their program and the phone answering machine told me that the program has been closed. Enrollment is over. Well, that answers that. I don't really know if I can deal with that kind of exposure therapy anyway. So I called LifeNet and got WTC Environment Health Center and enrolled there. I should be fully involved in ten days. That's nice. I don't know what that means, but that is nice.

I was thinking about 24 and getting into the business of trying to do something big with something small, like my life, but the truth of the matter is, I'm ready to fight again. I've dealt with my pain, dealt with my aches and suffering and now it's time to deal some of that shit out, in spades. Like a worm, I wrapped myself in a chrysalis and now I'm busting out and ready to blacken some eyes. I'm sick and tired of taking this shit down on my back. I'm standing up now and will hurt the environment if I have to. Stand back, the explosion might be damaging.

I'm kicking ass with my screenplay, sent away enrollment forms for three online colleges and I'm not done yet. I've got a stack of shit to shovel, and if you're in my path, you're gonna get buried. Simple math. Hell, I've got so much power in my bones that I'm vibrating when I walk at a frequency so high that if a woman was to jump on my pole she'll have an orgasm in a minute. I'm electric. I'm powerful, and soon to become all-powerful. That's how I feel, and I blame it all on the Abilify. I'm feeling invincible again. I do a lot when I feel that way, and accomplish alot, and can also be quite dangerous, to myself and others.

When you feel you cannot fail, you take all kinds of chances. I have to remember that. I CAN fail, I CAN be vanquished. I have to remember that even though my entire mind calls me a fucking liar. I CAN FAIL. Believe it, Hobobob. Believe it. I can't right now though. I'm piling my plate full of work. I'm re-reading my novel for publication, re-writing my screenplay, I have been invited to a publisher's, by invitation only, party by a close novelist fried that I know. He wants me to rub shoulders with publishing big wigs, like Simon and Shuster who published him. I hunch my shoulders. I'm going to do that too.

I'm suddenly ready to do some heavy lifting. I'm ready, more than willing and fully capable. I love this feeling, and I know, it's from the Abilify. It keeps me from wallowing in defeat. It's like waking up and KNOWING that this world is too tiny to contend with you. You feel like those old movies of Godzilla fucking up those little toy tanks and missile silos in Tokyo, kicking over those mini-dams that flooded the mini towns. He would stomp on those tiny police cars and wreak such havoc, because the world was so small. That's how I feel right now. I'm like a George Forman grill...touch me and I'll fuck you up.

Abilify. I know what their catchphrase should be... "Making Gods out of men every fucking day!" Oh, and the pink bottle would read "...Making Goddesses out of women every single day...bitch!" Hey, do I feel like a God? No, but I'm damn close. Hey, if you take everything from a man to the point that he has nothing to lose, you should expect nothing, anticipate nothing, doubt nothing, plan nothing, and most of all, dispute nothing in the world. Like a bitch, a god can do whatever he wants, and will become highly creative. Highly, and the more creative your opponent is, the more flatfooted you will become. You will try to anticipate, and find yourself outmaneuvered and roasted like a pig on a spit because your reality will be altered. It's like that fucking rabbit in Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Yeah, remember the Wizard standing on the mountain throwing lightning and thunder from the heavens had warned them that an all powerful creature guarded the cave entrance that held the grail. Yeah, he said he wouldn't go in with them. Yeah, he was frightened. But King Arthur knew no dragon could stop him from his quest.

They traveled down the grassy hillocks into a blackened, ash marred wasteland to an black cave entrance formed of rocks incinerated so that they became coal and King Arthur and his army stood before it's entrance and called out for the great beast to show itself. And hopping out of the dark opening came...a little, white bunny rabbit. Hell, if that shit wasn't the funniest thing I have ever seen in my life. King Arthur, incensed by the insult, commanded his soldier to go and take off it's head. Upon his approach, the rabbit launched from its hind legs, struck the soldier in the neck removing his head. Now, King Arthur was not only shocked but made a mockery of, so he called a general charge. Armored soldiers rushed the little bunny who jumped like lightning from neck to neck, removing head after head until Arthur's soldiers were nearly decimated and he called out to the remaining survivors to "RUN AWAY!"

Yeah, that's highly creative. Who would have thunk that a rabbit could be so? Arthur had the world turn on a surreal axis that day, and someone like me is just itching to do that to someone like you if you stand in my way now. Turn your world on a surreal axis. That's the good thing about Abilify. It gives you the broken logic, the fucked up mental pattern, the disturbed thinking to make you come up with the most insane answers to questions. The problem is that when you come up with an answer to a question that has no chance of succeeding because it is so backwards, so stupid, so outrageous, you discard it as sheer madness. People on Abilify CAN'T DO THAT SHIT. It sounds like the most perfect logic to us. It's the only choice that makes any sense to us. That's why we feel like Gods, because we have all of the answers, no matter the level of lunacy, to all of the questions ever posed.

It truly is an amazing feeling. I think I'm going to sit back and calculate the rotational axis of the sun around the curve of the universe using galaxy P32-189 as my reference point because although it hasn't been proven, the Milky Way has been revolving around that locus for some one hundred million years until we are cross coupled with galaxy P127-12 where we will take another orbit which will finally place us in conflict with an asteroid field in the outer rim, causing the destruction of humankind in another two trillion years. I think I'm going to write this calculation in Latin, in my shorts with lipstick.

Oh, that's right. I don't wear shorts anymore. Okay, I guess I'll have to break into Richie's room across the hall and steal a pair of his. Can you just imagine his face if he ever caught me doing that for the reasons that I explained above. That's fucking with a motherfucker's head. That's what I'm trying to tell you, high creativity that will turn your reality on a surreal axis. It takes a diseased mind to get you there, to drop you off on a psychedelic bus ride to Dr. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Shooting Range. Yeah and I'm the bus driver, range manager. I am the ringmaster of the three ring circus in my skull. Actually, there might be only one ring in my head, the other two are floating on a pond that runs up the side of the wall when I try to sleep. I hear it gargling, bubbling and when I open my eyes, I see it running up the wall for a split second before I'm fully awake.

What am I trying to tell you here? I feel good. I feel creative. I feel on top of my game and ready to do something with this life other than throw it away. I'm ready to eat food with real teeth that I found in my mouth only lately. I'm ready to leap from hind legs reverse-ankled so that I can jump like a Satyr great distances and hunt food, hunt prey and predator alike.

I'm ready child. I'm ready son. I'm ready brother. I'm ready father. I'm ready God. I'm ready to fight now. Line 'em up. Line 'em up, so that the Hobo can do a number on them and knock them the fuck down.

LINE 'EM UP!

Hobobob