Evidence of Stupidity

I didn't go to see Charliqua yesterday. I sent her an email:


Charliqua:
Today, there is no hot water in my building. This is on an off for two days now. I'm waiting for it to come on again so that I can get cleaned up and get out. It's late and I doubt if they're going to have it fixed in time. Please provide me with another appointment just in case this is the case.


This bitch sends me this:


You must return to WeCare on 1/8/10 @ 2pm with the letter of treatment from Metropolitan Hospital , that you attended your intake appointment and when your next psychiatric appointment has been scheduled and bring this with you on 1/8/10 @ 2pm.


Here's the thing. This bitch did not tell me that I had to have these fucking letters when I went there, which could have been easy to get while I had the ear of these people while sitting before them. Now I've got to go back in this busy complex and ask them for letter for this bitch. God, I want to go stomp this woman down! Instead, I write her this:


Charliqua:
I don't have any of these letters. I was never asked to obtain one. I don't even know if I can contact the new psychiatrist before the 13th. Why wasn't I told this earlier?


She comes back with more shit. Shit out of her shit mouth from her shit head. I got out of bed for this shit? Time to go back to sleep and call it a day. What's incredible to me is that I'm supposed to be unstable. What keeps me from snapping and going into WECARE and going postal on this bitch. Only the fact that she is a fucking cog. Replaceable so easily, like a human tampon. WECARE will just bring on another one, and another one, because that's the function of the fucking machine. It's big and cumbersome and useless. WECARE needs to be deleted, but people like Charliqua will quickly join people like me in a heartbeat. That's the fear of people nowadays, to become me in a heartbeat of losing their jobs.

This is a very real possibility. I'm the boogie man. I am the man that no one wants to be. Alone, broke, tired, living in a room with barely enough to eat, but NOT starving. Having to deal with the government and their stupid agencies, no job prospects in sight that will cover all of my medications. I'm fucked. I'm seriously fucked. There is no way out of this trap. No escape, no resolution. Am I giving up? No. Nothing remains the same. Nothing, not for long. Things change. Who knows, maybe I'll go backwards, back out into the streets, living like an urhin. This time, without the meds, maybe I'll lose my mind this time. This time will be the charm.

Fuck that! I'll give up when I die!

Big K is coming over. I'm filing for my car title today. Hopefully we can get that soon and get this vehicle out of New Jersey. It's been up there for too long and I'm afraid that this could be the last year for it. I can't afford impound fees and shit. I just hope we move fast enough. Very fast enough. I'm not going to let this get me crazy. The car has been there faithfully for years. What's one more? Just because I'm moving it now means that it's going to run off? I don't think so. I contacted Charlie to see if he could carry us around the town to make a long journey shorter. He says no problem. Charlie. He said something profound to me with the email: "Love can fade a bit. Love shouldn't die." Amazing. The best words that I've heard in awhile. Mine to keep. Mine to own.

So Big K is shooting over here, and we'll probably sit, listen to music, bullshit, smoke. Hmmm, maybe I should pick up some wine? Maybe. I don't know. She might not be in that much of a mood to get fucked up. Shit. The room buzzer rings. I have a guest downstairs. I head down, meet Big K in the vestibule and we both go to the liquor store right next door for a bottle of wine. Then we head up to the room, and chill with music and work on the auto paperwork some. James pops up on IM and the three of us hang out for awhile.

The night pulls on and soon it is time for her to go. I wish her well, thank her for hanging out and walk her downstairs for her ID. I get the munhcies pretty bad and get a bag of chips from the nearby Duane Reade and headed for home. I was zooted, and crawled into bed passing out in seconds.

I slept like a bear.

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