Friday, September 11, 2009

All the Colors of Blood


    Houston, three days into mission and counting. Systems check Nominal. Clean burn, repeat, clean burn. Will try for first stage separation on day four. Rollback pumps clear, prep almost completed ahead of schedule. Stand by Houston.

    Yesterday evening it was overcast. A mean kinda overcast, like it wanted to rain but it just too angry a motherfucker to do it. I was at the end of my walk and hoping that that skies would just hold up until I got into my building. It did. When I got upstairs, the rain started to fall and fall.

    So I'm working, and I'm naked in front of my computer and I feel wind going up my ass. That' right, WIND going up my asshole. I get up and look at my window and I see the culprit. With the installation of my air conditioner was a little problem. My window is fucking huge. The plastic wings on the sides of the air conditioner, that is used to block out the rest of the window, can only reach so far. They only cover about three quarters of my window. The other quarter is open. So to solve the problem, maintenance took a piece of Styrofoam and taped it over the remaining space to close the gap. Well it worked like a charm on those hot, hot, hot, days, when I had to have the A/C on full blast. Now it is getting cold, and probably the first Noreaster is coming in, because the rain and the wind outside is terrific. The two combined blew off my Styrofoam filler and is allowing the cold air in.

    I re-taped it down again and didn't think much of it, until I felt this chilly blast of cold go up my ass. I got up and re-taped it again, know this is not going to work for the long run, but what the fuck. It makes me feel like I can do something. At around 2:30 in the morning, I have a hankering for coffee, and I'm all out. So I get dressed, put on my TFP (That Fuckin' Poncho) and head out. Big mistake. The fucking wind was carrying the rain practically sideways, as it slashed at you at terrific speeds. You can bet that I skipped my ass to the all night Duane Reade then.

    I was grateful to be back in my little abode drinking coffee and working on my case until the wee hours of the morning. I did a tremendous amount of surfing and printing out documents for my court case, and then going through the massive paperwork that is my medical records. It wouldn't be so bad, but these doctors kept DETAILED reports EVER DAY I was there. This makes everything tedious. Page after page after page of how fucked up I am. Maybe my dumb ass should be in Bellevue. Shit, going in is easy for me. All I have to do is walk through the door, explain to them that I feel that I'm going to SCHNAPP!!! Sign a few papers, and off to the house where all the silverware is plastic and you play in a romper room all day with other people on Thorazine.

    Now that would be like Club Med. That would be dope. But I haven't got time for expensive vacations right now. I have a court case to get ready for and a FUCKING novel to finish. I'm not FUCKING around now. This is all business, not pleasure. None. So stand back and keep all loose items, clothing and jewelry away from the FUCKING moving goddamn parts! I'm cooking with gas. I work into the night and into the next day, calling it quits around 4:30am. I read so many medical documents and went through so many pharmaceutical side effects that I fell to sleep gratefully. I was out like a light.

    I slept like dead people do. But woke up early, around 7:00am and made breakfast. Ramen noodles. That's right I went shopping yesterday too. I bought a mad supply of Ramen noodles, just because them bitches are fucking cheap, three for a dollar, and if you don't drink the soup they are low in calories. Just the shit I'm looking for, and I bought a weeks worth of weight watchers dinners and if I couple them with the Ramen noodles, two weeks. Weight watchers is less expensive than lean cuisine, so I make my choice accordingly. When I get to the cash register, and the woman behind it saw the mountain of frozen dinners she almost shat her Pampers.

    I carried all of this moose shit home and filled my refrigerator and cabinets. Well, I had Ramen noodles for breakfast and lunch, and like I said, those bitches are filling. Aim number one when counting calories...shrink the stomach. Eat less and less, so that you get full faster and faster. An old trick that actually works. Like I said, I can lose weight when counting calories, I just can't keep it off. Now I'm going to combine this eating with exercise and we'll see just how far it takes me.

    So I'm damn prepared to walk my ass off today, and its raining. And raining. And raining. The shit just won't stop, and the wind and the rain just won't leave the fucking damn Styrofoam separator alone in my window. Every time I sit down, here comes that obnoxious wind, like an ice cold finger up my ass. This has got to be kill. I've got to do something about that gap before wintertime comes or I'm going to be in some sad, sad shape. That styrofoam has to go for something more insulating. I know of a hardware store that I can go to where they might have something. I KNOW that I'm not the only person with this problem.

    So the rain just does not let up. It's late afternoon, and I've resigned myself to the fact that I'm not going anywhere so I write. I get an email from a friend in Florida, and she tells me that today is 9/11. What? I need a friend from FLORIDA to remind me that today is the anniversary of the terrorist attack against New York. It's a damn near city holiday. What the fuck is wrong with me? Have I completely lost track of time? Dates are meaningless now? I don't get me sometimes. Like I told my therapist yesterday, that I have no short term memory. I've completely lost it. I find it even hard to write this blog, because I forget what happened the day before, even the afternoon before. Completely forget. Now I'm having problems spelling simple words or hitting the correct typewriter keys.

    I don't know. I think things have just been burned out of my head because my sleep cycle is not right and I'm functioning on less and less sleep. I believe that to be the problem. With out the proper rest the brain gets addled, it looses the ability to function correctly. Sleep deprivation is used as torture in some countries. I heard that the CIA employs a room called the 'crazy room', where the entire room flips over and over, with a loud siren and flashing lights inside so that you can't sleep. They leave you in there for days, and when they are done with you you are so defeated that you'll tell them anything.

    Maybe that's what I need...to confess. To tell you everything. Well, basically that's why I write to you....to tell you everything. Well not EVERYTHING or these posts would be pages long. Just highlights. Like when I shave my balls, or puke in my own mouth.

    Now that's nice.

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