I feel like a pariah in the Box.
I head upstairs to the nurses office for my meds. Mr. Franklin lumbers by like Frankenstein. "Hello, Hobobob." Hello Mr. Franklin. There is nothing else between us. I run into John and Ralphy. John hits Ralphy playfully on the arm. "Lucky Devil," he calls him. Ralphy has a cheese eating grin. I frown. What the fuck are you smiling for? You found money?
"I've got my apart- ment," he beams. "I'm finally out of here on Monday." Really Ralphy? "Yep. No more stupid assed curfew, no piss tests, no breathalyzers. No more of this shit." I feel good for Ralphy. I feel worse for me. Here we go again. There will be another round of people leaving, people getting apartments. It' goes like that. I've been through two 'rounds' already. Here comes a third. This shit would depress a better man, but I'm just numb right now to the entire mess. And I can't drink on top of it.
That's right, I had nothing today, and I've vowed not to have anything, not even a whiff, for two months. To shake the bullets off my back. These people are just waiting to spring a test on me. That would not be good if I failed it. IF they don't give me the boot for relapsing, they promised to give me Twenty Eight Upstate. That would not be good. And I thought Three on One was a hard way to go.
The guys are animate tonight. Their conversations are sillier and sillier. Just when you think it can go no further, it does. Tonight, the major topic is kidnaping one self. Did you understand me? Kidnaping yourself. The real question to them is: how many years does one get for successfully kidnaping yourself. I want to know what if you successfully pay the ransom? And then successfully kill the captive? It's impressive how much brain power that these guys expend on some of the most stupid shit.
I soon close up shop and fall asleep. It is a troubled sleep and I remember struggling and waking up with a start, still fighting my personal demons. I sit up and look about in the dark. Across from me, in his bed, Dante is sitting up and staring at me. Silent and brooding as usual. He told me earlier that he was going to skip his meds tonight. When he skips his meds he hears voices telling him to harm people. He also can't sleep when he passes up his meds. So I have to deal with him in the middle of the night, huh? I roll over and fall back to sleep. I'll be damned if I'm going to be concerned with a nut. He has only one chance to kill me in my sleep. If he fails and I get up, honestly, I'm doing him. Simple. At least I'll expire in my sleep. He'll expire screaming.
That's a horrible thing to think about. Taking another human life. But shit, you wake up in the middle of the night with a nut staring at you. It'll make you hard to. I wake up again, my body programmed to wake normally during the night for my early morning shower. Dante is still up, staring at me. It is cold in the dorm too. I vote against my shower and fall back to sleep. When I wake at six, Dante is fast asleep.
I get up and do my morning exercise. It's still difficult. But I get the shit done. I dress and make up my bed, and then read, waiting for Seven O'clock to arrive. When it does I scoot out to Broadway Starbucks to get online. The minute that I power up I notice that I don't see the WIFI router. The AT&T signal is just not there. I scan for it over and over again, but it's not present. I go to the counter to engage a cute, little, but quite stupid countergirl. The router is down, could you power it up? "What router?" She asks, puzzled. The WIFI router. I can't get on it. "Did you pay for it?" No you don't have to pay for WIFI in Starbucks. "Yes, you have to pay for it." No...no you don't. I didn't need to pay for it yesterday. "You used it yesterday?" She should have been standing in front of me, twisting her hair with a finger and chewing gum. Yes, I used it yesterday. "Well you have to pay...." Well at any rate, the router is down. There's no signal in the room. "That's because you have to pay for it." I shake my head. I don't have the time to school her on WIFI networking principles. Fine, lets leave Hobobob, I say to myself.
I pack up my shit, stow my gear on my back and head to Think Coffee.
Once there I get online. And stay there, doing emails and blogging and the general shit that gets me through my day. I remember to look at my watch and watch the time. I'm to return to the Box by Ten to get my meds. I remember that. What I completely forget is MORNING MEETING at Nine!! On top of that, this is supposed to be a very special Morning Meeting, because the big man, Muzzy is supposed to be there, and he likes to address everyone, so they make a big deal out of this one. I lower my head into my hands. I can't help but fuck up this week. I'm already on contract, so what does this mean. Discharge? Probably. But it could also mean just punishment. Like washing dishes for a week, or cleaning the dining room.
How in the world could I forget Morning Meeting today? It was easy. I have a routine already, and I just stuck to it. This Morning Meeting thing is a new addition to my routine and it hasn't stuck yet. Needless to say, I am stressed over this predicament. Tomorrow is going to be another day, probably being forced to meet with Kelley the Ten Year Old, who I would like to put across my knee and spank. She's JUST that YOUNG to me. Now I'll be forced to watch her come up with something that she's learned in social worker school to address this.
Well, tomorrow is a new day. My imagination can become overractive at times. Usually I don't see catastrophes coming, but I sure can think them up. I push unpleasant thoughts from my mind and get back to my blogging.
If I'm back out in the streets tomorrow, at least they can't stop me from blogging.
HobobobSource URL: http://extravagancedeplumes.blogspot.com/2008/09/fuck-you-for-smiling.html
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