I get up early. Very early.
My eyes pop open at Four Thirty AM. I sit up in bed. About me is the dark with sleeping men. I go and use the john, and when I do, I walk past Paul the Stooge's bed and there is a crackling noise, as if someone is playing with bubble packaging. But Paul the Stooge is out like a board. I walk by, heading back for my bed and finding a quarter of my portable filled with vodka. I pour it from one water bottle to the big one over the head of my bed, mixing it with even more water, diluting it further. I turn it up to my lips and the fever crashes into my skull quicker than silver.
I know what I'm doing. I'm chasing the devil, partaking of the 'hair of the dog', pushing the fever. I'm delaying the inevitable hangover. Simple as that. I'm not tired, and consider getting up and taking a much needed shower, but something tells me to rest my head down on my pillow for a minute. Only a minute, and then collect my things and get into the shower.
A minute turns into four hours. Damn I was tired. I wake up close to Nine. How in the fuck did that happen? I sit up again, head over to the water fountain, taking massive gulps. I am thirsty beyond belief. Then I return to my bed and to that bottle of hooch. I feel fine. In fact, I feel extraordinary...but I know that's only an effect of the Brown World. It plays with your senses that way. But this feeling will soon go away to something worse. Very worse. I bang back another shot, pushing the hang back even further. What I wouldn't give for some VICODIN or TRAMADOL right now.
I check the dining room to make sure that it was past breakfast. It was, the kitchen was shut up tighter than Dick's hatband. Which meant that I was going to Starbucks for some coffee. I headed back and made up my bed, and while packing my gear, Igor asks if I'm on my way to Starbucks. Yeah, I reply. "Wait for me," he says. "Instead of going to Starbucks, I have a place for you to go." Yeah? Where? "It's closer than Starbucks...it's called 'Think Coffee' and the coffee is good, the people are nice, the chairs are comfortable and there are tons of plugs for laptops." What about WIFI, Igor. I need WIFI too. "Yeah, yeah, they have that."
I think seriously about this. Someplace new. Hmmm. I take my water bottle and take another belt. Yeah, the Brown World makes you daring. Sure, lets go. I finish up with my drink, solidly placing myself once again in the 'bag', and headed out with Igor. We wind around the corners of a few blocks until we get to 'Think Coffee'. A rather large joint tucked away between two larger buildings. It was rustic, with a long, marble bar and tables upon tables. And near every table was a power plug. In the center of the great space were comfortable couches and tables. I could see hundreds of future writers getting their start from sitting here drinking coffee and typing away on their laptops.
Now as perfect as this place was, with Igor and I sitting down on a couch and plugging into an outlet in the floor, my partner was a pain. The moment that I got situated and comfortable behind my system, did he start asking me questions about Skype. One question after the other, because he knows nothing about computers or the Internet, and the only way to do anything other than surf is to take me along. I mean, simple pages, with a large submit button stumped him. Pages that asked for his credit card information could have been written in Chinese for all that he knew.
It became almost impossible for me to write my blog even. I grew more and more pissed with every single question, until we set up Skype and IM video. Once everything was working he called his brother and got him on video. It was then, and only then, did the questions stop, as he fell into lively conversation with his brother. Suddenly, peace and quiet. I could enjoy my being here at this new spot.
No sooner did I get started again did he close his laptop cover and announced that he was leaving. He had to go to class for his first day. Well DAMN, Igor. Shore hates to see yaz go dere pardner. Ya git along now ya'hear. He rose, bade me farewell, and marched off. I was never so elated. I moved to a more comfortable table, because of mine, being so low, that I had to lean over and down just to use the keyboard.But now I had a good table and nothing but time on my hands.
Oh my!
HobobobSource URL: http://idontwanttobeanythingotherthanme.blogspot.com/2008/08/every-waking-moment.html
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