She's Worse Than a Bitch

I am addicted to the Internet.

I realize this now. I am completely addicted. I live for it. I can't live without it. I'm sitting in this empty room, feeling even more forlorn. There isn't even a party or an event to go to because I am out of touch with my emails. I don't know what the fuck is going on in my poetry world. Shit, I'm in the complete dark. I'm supposed to get newsletters out, get newsletters together, get shit done before Tuesday. I was going to do it all tonight, but that's shot. I'm done.

I am addicted to the Internet. The Internet is my lover, my whore. If she was a real woman, I would be fucking her all in the ass, until my cock fell off. That's right, I would be flipping her hot ass over more times than a flapjack on a griddle. I am pissed. Pissed with Time Warner Cable for wasting an entire day for me. A day that I took off from doing shit that needed to be done, such as going to this mental hospital....

Why am I even thinking about that. Going to a mental hospital. I just want a simple therapist to talk to about social anxiety. That's it. I need another service like ICD but ICD was just too far away to bother going to day in and day out. Just too fucking far, for three visits a week. Now the Metropolitan hospital tomorrow, that's if Igor doesn't come tonight with a cell phone so that I can bitch to Time Warner Cable about my being here all day for a serviceman. I don't want to hear about December 29th before I can get my Internet connection back up. That's bullshit. These motherfuckers somehow disconnected me at the router and now they've got me on a list of people who are getting their cable for the first time. They rather take care of new accounts instead of me because they already have my money. That's the way it goes.

That's just the way that it goes. So now, I'm stranded in nowheres- ville. I am tired of my room, tired of this life. I am feeling depressed, and gray again. I'm asked to stew in silence, my screams muffled by electronic hands. I can't even shout out my pain through the ether anymore, but they have to be suppressed in my computer, on file after growing file for later posting. Three days without the Internet is one thing. A week? Now you're really pushing my buttons. I want to scream. Scream bloody murder. That's right, scream as if something is killing me. Howl.

But, in space, there is no one to hear your scream. There is no one to hear me at all. I am alone. I'm not looking for sympathy. I'm not asking for pity. I'm not asking for your tears. I JUST WANT MY FUCKING INTERNET CONNECTION BACK!!! What the fuck? I don't even want free Internet. I want to pay for it, just give it to me!! I'm losing my cool here. I'm cracking up, and will continue to crack up....

Waitaminute. Starbucks closes at 11:00. Do you think that there are seats down there at the prime tables at this hour of the night? It's 8:00 now. It won't hurt to look now would it?

I jump into my clothes and head downstairs and true to my life, all of the outlet tables are taken by people, half of which are using the plugs. The other half are reading the newpaper or playing with their iPhone. I get a cup of coffee and take a seat across from the tables and wait patiently. In about twenty minutes, this...this...well, lets just call her a CUNT. Well, this cunt comes strolling in, and checking out the tables of the establishment, she finds that only five of them are near a power outlet, and that all five are taken. In doing this, she walks past me, sitting at a table waiting, TWICE. So this cunt goes to the counter and orders coffee. Just then, the bitch with the iPhone stands up and grabs her bag. I get up and walk to the table, and this cunt comes zooming around the corner and grabs the chair on the other side of the table. I look at her and place my bag down on the other side, and slowly start unpacking my baby, and plugging in. Meanwhile the counter help is calling to the cunt to come get her coffee, and she left her gear several tables away. All she could do to me is stare at me hotly while I set up and sat down.

What was she going to do? Punch me out? Kick me in the balls? Shit, I'd like her to try. I'd tear all the clothes off her ass and shove her naked out into the snow. What pisses me off the most is that this cunt SAW ME WAITING when she walked in looking, and she felt that, her just walking in gives her first dibs? Drop dead cunt.

That's one reason why I hate humankind. That's one reason why I just like to be in my room, not interfering with the world, letting it just go on without me. I'm happy just to be by myself, not interfacing with the people around me. So many of them are so selfish and greedy. There is no courtesy and love anymore in the city. I am tired of them. I just want to be at my desk, naked, with the air conditioner blowing air on my back.

I'm measuring out my time. An hour to answer email, and an hour to blog. I'm zooming through twenty six emails, replying, deleting, doing what I do best. While my head is down, with earplugs playing Green Day in my ears, one of the Starbuck barristers comes up to me. "Five minutes before closing." he says. FIVE MINUTES!!What the fuck is he talking about? The sign outside says they close at 11:00!! It''s only 10:00!! What the fuck is this shit? I go through two more emails and then close down. The store empties quickly except for me and the cunt. I pack up my bags and wonder just what this cunt is up to? If I step outside and she confronts me about this fucking table, I'm going to put her pretty brunette head through the plate glass window. I swear to god!!! I'm pissed enough.

I walk out, she hesitates. I leave and go down the block, she exits and goes the other way. That's good for her. That's when my balls protested. The rose right up between my legs, making me stop and spread as if I was being felt up by the cops. My entire cock and balls got hit with a cold blast of air, and looking down, my zipper is wide open, my junk waving to the world. Everyone in Starbucks must have been shocked to see a man walk around with his dick presented proudly to the men and women of New York City. Shit am I doing this again? I remember when I was a drunk I used to do this all the time, walk around in Blockbuster Video with my dick hanging out to such an extent the the countergirls there had to point my penis out to me over and over. But I was drunk then. What the fuck am I doing now? It must be the drugs. I zip up my pants. It must be the drugs.

I need to talk to Time Warner Cable. I need to talk to Igor.

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