I feel better this morning.
I've gotten in touch with all of my loved ones, and everyone is fine. I'm fine. God. I don't wish the feeling that I had on Friday morning on anyone. Avoid it if you can. I've never in my life experienced anything like that. I can tell you, it shakes your faith in reality. This motherfucker was painful. I wonder what in real life could make me feel so much senseless pain?
Well, whatever it is, I don't have to face it. Fuck that. So I edited my Novel and fucked around a bit, took a shower and before I knew it, it was time to rush my ass to the Port Authority. Once I get there Bryan is already waiting. Now since OBSIDIAN is back and town and he told me in e-mail that he would be at the SHOUT OUT, I took my laptop with me for our meeting over at Starbucks after the show. I pack her as I have done for years, sling her onto my back, and the fucker is heavy. Heavy. What's in here? Bricks? I hung out with Bryan, walking around town before Brunch and walk around town afterward. Bryan and I have a great time as usual until it's time for me to fly. I go to the Way, up and down stairs and this heavy bitch is trying to wear me down. What the fuck? Have I lost that much muscle tone so fast that I find it hard to tote my life on my back, like I have done for three years? I even feel the ligaments and tendons in my feet start to complain. Shit. As you get older, you body breaks down much faster than when you were younger I see.
It's good to remain active as long as you can, as much as you can it seems. No wonder I was in good shape when I was homeless. Walking about with this heavy pack was a fact of my life. I think of me now. What a change. I've done a complete 180 degree. I feel differently about a lot of things now. Have I entered into a new life?
I get to the SHOUT OUT early, and there is already activity. A band is coming out. Once out, they lock the door. Now here's my luck for you. See if it's good being me. I am introduced to two ladies who know me and my name and I don't even know them. I'm like a celebrity-obscura. It's nice to meet them, and another gentleman. We're all standing by the door. Now I had cereal and milk for breakfast and my stomach is churning and I'm lactose intolerant, so you know that my belly is cooking up one mean, angry fart. I hold it until the pressure is immense.
Gritting my teeth, I walk away from this clique of three waiting poets and walk out to the curb. Once there I cut a fart so long and hot that it warms up my pants down to the legs. On top of that, is smelled like rotten eggs. It even upsetted me. I turn around to see Cyndi Lauper, on the inside of OTTOs, waving me in through the glass doors. Shit! I have to trail this stench with me right past these new people? What the fuck is that about? I stand for a few seconds, trying to give the fart a chance to dissipate while the group of three are waiting for me to lead the way. I get a brainstorm and shoo them in, making them take the lead, and sparing them from a stomach churning experience.
But why does shit like that keep happening to me? When life throws you lemons, make lemonade...what if life starts throwing you shit?? Make Shitade? Fuck, I can never catch a break, ever. Not in this life or the next. Okay, I'll end my bellyaching. The SHOUT OUT is thin, only about seven people. The Feature is awesome and does an excellent job, even for a thin crowd. Two things I think led to a light attendance. One, it was a dreary, rainy day; and two, there was a special event in Brooklyn that a number of them probably went out to support. Still, with these things, you never know why. But that's what we need, new faces, new people at the SHOUT OUT. We have to put our name out there if this is going to work. I have to think of something.
After the show, OBSIDIAN tells me that he has to split. He has plans. I nod, I had just toted this motherfucker all the way here and we're not going to have that summit. Shit. Now I have to take Big Sexy back home. My brother and I walk crosstown and get to the number 6 train. We split up and I head home, entirely too weak to make it. I struggle against the weight of my baby as if I was in a forced labor camp. I came apart so quickly so fast. It was either that or I'm ill. I do some food shopping, grab some goods and meds, and head up to the space pod.
And what is wrong with that. I make a spam sandwich for dinner and then pass out until around 10:00pm. Whereupon I stay online on IM until about 3:00am, if you can believe that? Until 3:00am. Roughly after that, I stay up until 5:00am editing my Novel. Finally some time after 5:00am I crash. I'm beginning to hate the nights. Really.
It seems as if I despise my nights because it's too quiet online. There is no one to talk to, there are no emails flowing. There aren't any people on IRC even. And I can't sleep. I'd rather keep editing then. Maybe my luck is soon to change and everything will be different all of a sudden. A reversal of fortune. I've seen it happen to others. I've seen it. It happens. I has to happen. It's got to happen. I have to hold faith. All things change, for better or for worse. Now that my life is in wack, it should change for the better. Things should work for me. I know it.I see it.
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