Your Nervous Energy in Check

I'm up until Seven in the morning.

I'm working on my novel all night long. In less than two weeks I believe, I'm up to two hundred pages. That's a lot of typing, and that's a whole lot of ideas in my head just pouring out like a blown artery. Cerebral hemorrhage of the mind. I can't wait to get home to pound away on my keyboard while this story is hotter than a whore with gonorrhea!

At around Six I went out to do some food shopping. It would prove to be too busy a day to not to try to get as much as I can done. When I got upstairs at around Seven, it was lights out. I awoke at Noon and got up, got ready and got out to go to my therapist's appointment to go see Dr. K. While sitting in her office, there is a knock on the door. She looks at me, holds up a finger, "It's your charts," she says. What? The holy grail, right here in my reach? What are the chances of that happening? Just take it, drop it off at a nearby kinkos and call it an evening, but you can't go out of the building with the original. No.

Well, after me and Dr. K. are over, it's time for the moment of truth. I head down to the records department. The first thing that should have told me that this was not going to be a good day is that when I got to the door, which is usually closed, is now opened, and a janitor is standing there looking at me as I walk up. I smile and he continues to stare, working with a plastic bag, while standing over a wastepaper basket. I continue to stare. It 's a staring match. So to break the hypnotic gaze we got going on I press the buzzer for the door which seems to wake the janitor from his delirium and he walks off somewhere, probably to stare at someone else.

And lo and behold it is the airhead again. Okay, we said Thursday, seven days to copy those records. How does it look? She looks at me for a moment with a blank stare. Then she says: "I left it for Rodrigo to do and I don't know if he did it...and he went on vacation." Then we stand and look at each other. Well little lady, can you please go and check if he did it? She disappears. I sweat bullets and shit tacks. She returns with a fat assed envelope with Hobobob written in beautiful cursive writing on it side. Thank you little lady, thank you so much. I take that shit and run straight home, but not without stopping at my favorite pharmacy, Duane Reade.

The biggest collection of useless motherfuckers the world over. I tell them that I have a pick up. So it takes two of them to go through their alphabetizing system to find my name and pull out three prescriptions....no, six. The woman starts to ring them up when the girl comes out of the back...no, eleven prescriptions in his name. She goes into the back again. The woman up front is still processing my prescription order, when the girl come out again. No, fifteen. She comes back again. NO....sixteen!!! I'm wondering, if all of this shit is alphabetized, why is it so hard to find all of my prescriptions. I don't care, at least I have my medicine cabinet filled for today.

I bring my ass home and hop behind my computer on my novel. I continue until I get to page three hundred, and then look at the clock on the microwave, but there is no need, the sun is already up. It has done it again, snuck up on me from behind. I climb into bed. Not actually tired. I know it's not nervous energy but I call it quits and wake up around noon once more. I feel well rested as I run out of the door and over to Dr. A. He's looking good. His practice is still holding steady. Things are tough for him, but it's the fucking economy. Times are incredibly tight and I know that he and his family feel it. We all do in this country.

I tell him what happened to me with my leg. It seems, just in case I didn't mention it, that when I went up on my LYRICA to do the work that LUVOX was doing, both of my legs swelled up like two balloons at the calves. So I stopped taking the increased dosage from like 150 to 225 back down to 150. No sooner did I drop the LYRICA did the swollen legs go away, but once they did, the gout kicked in with a vengeance. Doc. A. had to explain to me that with the edema, the toxins in the body built up in my legs and when the swelling went down that meant more Uric Acid for the body to process, that's why the gout came on so hard and so strong. I was still feeling the bastard, after a week and two days of shitting. Karma.

I head to Central Park to meet up with DJ to walk about. Ask me why I'm so incredibly stupid to do something like this, and I'd have to respond to you: I just don't know. Maybe I wanted my gout to be fuck and gone by today. Maybe I thought that I could walk it off, walk it away. Maybe I thought that the pills in my body would numb me to all of the walking, but obviously I was wrong. The pain in my foot kept increasing as I strolled the park and then the zoo. I was never too particularly fond of zoos because of a bad experience that I had had when I was young. It was just so depressing seeing all of those beautiful animals in captivity. Back then I remember concrete cells and bars and plexiglass and just plain jail time for these poor animals.

So when DJ offers to take me to the zoo, I'm reluctant, I want to do anything but. Well we throw a mental coin in the air and I lose the toss so to speak. So off to the zoo we head. Now my body is starting to feel like a creaky old machine while I'm waiting to go through it. The first stop, the aviary. The moment I walked in, it was like a rainforest. Rising straight up it looked like it had no ceiling and real trees and flowers or very believable facsimiles. We walk through this very impressive aviary with birds flying everywhere overhead or walking on the ground, they seemed to be unafraid of the humans watching them.

From there I had to take a break. It was quite exhausting trying to keep from screaming in peoples faces when you're in growing pain. I took five at a nearby bench and DJ and I just chilled for about ten minutes, and the little red light went off in my head. Time to call it a day, get home and hit the sack. I was nodding off the minute that I relaxed and if given enough time, I would be dead to the world. It was time to split.

DJ wanted to show me the Penguin habitat first. Magnificent construction, it looked like they were standing on an ice floe. Some didn't even look real. Others were swimming merrily in the water. And then the world started closing in on me. The packed area, the shouting children, the obnoxious parents, the women with their baby carriages ramming into you before even uttering excuse me, this area finally broke the camel's back. It was time to leave. Bro Code Article 45: Good Night Irene. I let DJ know that my show had packed up and left and it was time for me to take my broke, broken ass home. I struggle through a growing sea of pain but I still drop off my New Prescriptions from Dr. A. Ask me what my new prescriptions are when you get the chance.

I crawl into bed and sleep until 8:00PM where when I get up I start back on my Novel, ending at page 400. What a feeling! And when I look over my shoulder, the sun is up again. Time now. Seven Thirty. I think I'll just wait another hour, get breakfast from downstairs and then get some shut eye before the SHOUT OUT.

That's my plan.

Plans have a way of failing, you know. All is Karma

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