There is a new guy across from me and next to Igor.
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He is a great big tub of lard of a man. He makes me look skinny, and that takes a great deal of bulk to do that. He lumbers in and crawls over his bed like a blob and rolls over. Igor knows him and they start to laugh and reminisce. Good for them. At least now they both have friends. The fat guy, who I'll call Jabba the Hut from this point on, gets up and waddles off. Igor waits until he is out of earshot before leaning in my direction and whispering: "If I was you, I'd watch my stuff from this guy. This guy here."
Shit Igor! I thought he was your friend! Maybe you know him too well. Water seeks its own level, right? But then can I really talk? I buy shit from Angel. Weeeeeell, that's not exactly finding my own level. I mean I DON'T KNOW if Angel is actually stealing his shit. I just know that he has good buys, and I can only go on what's before me. He could actually be finding all of this shit. I mean, we are living in the Beverly Hills of New York City. Rich people don't throw away broken, they throw away obsolete.
Well, in any event, I watch over my baby even more. There is a new guy in E's old bed. He looks like a dumb boxer. He walks hunched over, knuckles dragging on the floor, prominent forehead, steel lock bolts screwed into his neck. Another one that I don't trust. As time goes on, it's just as I foretold, there will be a thinning or winnowing out of those that I know, leaving me in a room full of strangers and potential thieves. Without a few individuals that I can trust, life will become hellish here. A sheer Hell.
I've marked four mother- fuckers here as thieves already. They and my gear are never in the same room alone. Never. Kevin, Stoopid, and now Jabba the Hut, and this new guy who I'll name later. That's a pretty large percentage of the dorm if you ask me. That means a great deal of work on my part in making taking my baby all but impossible. But it's work that I gladly engage in. I like it that I fuck up a thief's day by being around between himself and his target.
That's one of the reasons why I shower late at night. Thieves have to sleep too. I get up around three in the morning and hop into the shower, washing up while everyone is asleep. This is the most vulnerable time. If a thief did awake that early in the morning, and if I was taking a shower, and they knew just when I walked in, so as to know that he would have enough time to pull my bed back from the headboard and go after my gear, he would have to be pretty lucky. Even in the case that my bed is before one of the bay windows. And although the useless motherfuckers inside aren't vigilant, but are instead fast asleep, there might be a chance of waking one of them up and also being caught. Yeah, a thief would have to be pretty damn lucky to be able to pull that one off.
And talk about thieves, here comes Angel, sitting down next to my bed and holding out a wireless Mac keyboard. It is definitely used, with the batteries still in it and functioning. I look it over and it looks good, but it's a Mac. I don't know if it'll work on my laptop. I could use one though. It's missing the USB adapter. A minor problem. These things probably go for twenty dollars at the Apple Store. It's just that an Apple Store is a long way off from here. I look it over and hand it back, telling him to go ask Igor about it. But it still stays in the back of my mind. I'm going to need a keyboard soon. Probably one of those roll up jobs that I can keep in my backpack. A Mac wireless is just too big to carry around. Just too big.So, its another night and I drop off like a stone. I jam my headsets into my ears and close my eyes. It's time for sleep.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
It does not call me. I float along its noise and drop into an abysmal darkness. I am too tired to be touched tonight. I rise woodenly, stiff in the morning. But I'm refreshed. I feel good. I stretch the kinks out of my muscles. I don't want to be here, not around these throwbacks. I rise and walk upstairs. My Meds are waiting.
Before long I am once again on the train heading uptown in a rolling thunder of wheels of steel. I'm out of the Box and putting distance between myself and its shit. Today it tried to asphyxiate me, and I got away. I felt like I escaped, but to where? When I got to Bryant Park I was instantly inside of a mob. A wide sea of prepubescent girls howling and shouting for the Jonas Brothers. What in the HELL? Streets were closed, traffic was being re-routed, people were being sent blocks out of their way to avoid the crush of young girls pressing into the park to catch a glimpse of these kids in concert. It was pandemonium. I bobbed and floated through the crowds like a leaf in the wind, moving a block out of the way just to draw near to my Doctor's office. Today was Dr. A day, and I was to get my checkup.
My pressure was high. Largely because they had ran out of my NORVASC in the Box, and was having a tough time filling it up again. Something must be wrong. I believe that they are skimming meds from the top. A few pills here, a few there, and you have yourself your own little pharmacy. In skimming, you have to go without your meds for a 'few days' while they figure out why Kings Pharmacy has not filled your prescription. I'll find out. My doctor gave me another prescription. I want to see what's up now. I'm going to fill them myself. See what the deal is.I'll get the drop on them, and then there will be some, bang, bang, bang.
Why don't I trust these people?
My Inde- pendent Living Specialist came up to me the other day. "Hobobob", he asks in passing. "Are you going to be around on Saturday?" I suppose so. "That's great, I have some forms for you to sign."It looks like it's time to prepare to pack my bags again.
It looks like it's time for the next chapter of Hobobob's life to begin.
HobobobSource URL: http://idontwanttobeanythingotherthanme.blogspot.com/2008/08/nasty-sandwiches-and-thursdays.html
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