Work Order 410-283

I begin nodding off.

Yeah, I'm not good at marathons. I've been in this seat sitting before poet after poet for ten and a half hours. That's a full day of work and then some, without a lunch break. I was waiting for D2theL to come on, but he is scheduled for after the 10-12:00 hour. That's a full day here. I'm tired and throw in the towel before D2theL gets back from going home and changing his clothes, getting a nap and taking a shower.

I bid my brother farewell and hit the sidewalk. On my stroll down the block I run into D2theL heading for his reading. I tell him that I can take it no more, and he says goodnight. The New York gloom swallows him up as he heads for the reading, and I the Way. It is cold, really cold. Nothing is playing around tonight. Mr Winter is letting us know that just because we are contributing to global warming, we are not defeating him.

I don't know what's the big deal about global warming. I happen to like the milder winters in New York than the barren frozen ice and snow that I remember in my youth. But, the winter is not over yet here in the city. February, my perennial birthday, is still just ahead, and just as fierce when it comes to the inhuman cold and the Northeasters that can be thrown our way. After March, we can breathe a sigh of relief.

With that being said, I march on, heading home to blog and to write. I wrap up another episode of my screenplay. Repaginating it, re-editing it. I'm moving along much faster than when I was writing it most obviously. I can do an episode a night, and with only 23 episodes, it should take just over a month, with the occasional break and all.

The Internet connection NAVARRE, stayed up all night.

In the morning, I awake to a slight twinge behind my right knee. When I slide from the bed I find it strange and annoying, but although bothersome it does not get in my way. I sit down before my baby and begin working away, once again online. I quickly call Road Runner Cable, and went through the process of rescheduling my Internet connection because of spending the cash that I had on reserve to make the down payment on the installation and equipment. I changed it to Wednesday. A few days after payday.

I stand up from my chair to wash dishes and the twinge behind my knee has grown to an ache whenever I bend it past a certain point. I laugh. I'm getting old. Rheumatism is settling in like an old friend. I am not getting any younger. Soon my gray hairs will begin betraying my age. I'll soon be old and bent and feeble, like my father. Such hearty stock my old man is. He hangs on to each day, spry and capable, but not the strong man that I once remembered in my youth. I am strangely comforted that I have no children of my own. I have nothing to mark the passage of time save the children of my friends, who I don't see much at all. Well, the truth be told, at all period. My sister's children I have not seen in over five years. My brother's, even more. I am locked in time. Doing nothing more than chasing each day, growing fatter, thinking of me and little else.

I am too selfish with my life. I should be doing more for others. I have to work on that.

I leave for my doctor's office, and when I hit the 96th street station, and step down the stair a stabbing pain, like a spear through my right knee, almost sends me tumbling down the stairwell. What the fuck is this about?? I hobble down and up the stairs to the platform and then limp clear across town to see Dr. A.

I tell him the thing that concerns me. My weight. He's a genius, and could he use his incredible knowledge to help me loose this fat crowding in on my body. To reverse this scourge that vexes me so. He agrees to help me and lays out a plan to strike back at the gains made by my fat cells. We devise a sensible eating regimen to go with my exercise to build up my metabolism.

Then he looks at my knee. When he flexes it it feels as if he hacksawed it off. I almost jump from his examination table. It takes him a few seconds to figure out the truth. "Have you been taking your ALPURINOL?" he asks. Hmmmm, I've run out of some of my pills lately, but I don't remember ALPURINOL being one of them. "You must have not been taking them because you have the GOUT in your knee." WHAT?? The GOUT again?? In the kneee?? C'mon Now Doc!!

"You must not be taking your ALPURINOL," he shakes his head grimly as he sits back on his stool. "When you get home, take your COLCHICINE. Do you still have your COLCHICINE?" Yeah, I still have the loose stool maker...I say this to myself. To him I just say 'yeah'. "Take it when you get home. Take three of them and it should stop the pain." Okay Doc. "And call me if you are still in pain. I could even come over now, I live close by." That won't be necessary, Doc. Damn he's dedicated.

I jump off the examination table and hobble out the door. GOUT in the knee now. Next I'll have GOUT in the shoulder and neck. Son of a bitch! The fucker hurts too. When I got home, after shopping for the foods that the doctor instructed me to eat from now on, I pop the COLCHICINE and two TYLENOL. Yeah, I have no fear of pills. I pop them like chicklets, and if I buy the farm like Heath Ledger, I'm not afraid. Especially in my running to escape the pain of the GOUT. As long as I get to go to sleep before perishing. That kind of death seems almost comforting. Think I'm fucking kidding you. Get the GOUT and tell me about it.

I make a ham and cheese sandwich with Brocoli, Spinach and Iced tea. Not bad for a new diet.

There is a pounding on my door and a ringing of the bell.

I put on my pants and slippers. If this is Igor I'll simply wish him a Happy New Year. It's only Eight O'clock in the evening. I open my door and a man, dressed in blue coveralls and carrying a large spool of coaxial cabling is standing on the other side. "Cablevision," he states with great authority. Wha? "Cablevision, for you installation." I'm sorry, I reply. I canceled it. "What?" I called this morning and canceled it. He looks at me squarely, reaches to his belt to unclip his two way radio, "I'll have to check that," he says, and then clicks a button on the radio and holds it to the side of his face to speak into it. "Central, this is Able One Two, I'm calling for the status on Work Order Four, Ten, Two Eighty Three." The radio chirps a few times, then: "It was rescheduled for the Seventh."

"Copy that," he says into the radio, puts it back at his waist and looks at me: "See you on the Seventh." Wow. See you on the Seventh. I reply. Shit, what was he going to do to me if I didn't cancel for the night, beat me down with the fucking spool of cabling?? He lumbers off and I close the door. Wow.

My knee still aches.

HobobobSource URL: http://extravagancedeplumes.blogspot.com/2009/01/work-order-410-283.html
Visit extra vagance de plumes for Daily Updated Hairstyles Collection