I got up early again this morning.
Too early. Today was was intent to get up and take in that shower, get that invigorating start to my day. But no. Some flatfoot was in there. Well, that's fine, I'll just wait him out. I get up, take a leak, sit around, lie around, and he's still showering! Who the fuck does this guy think he is?? ME?? I have been bested at my own game. Now I see how others might feel about me waking up at all hours of the morning to take long, luxuriant showers. I'll have to remember that the next time I get the chance to take another shower.
I fall asleep and wake up a little later. It's only 5:54AM. I get up and head to the kitchen and wait patiently until 6:10AM when the Techs are finally prepared to serve breakfast. I knock out a bowl of cereal, the only real meal that I've had in two days, and head back to bed after writing emails, stretching out and falling back into a fitful sleep.
In this coming dream, which I remember vividly, I was in some kind of production. Maybe as a gaffer, maybe as a keygrip, I was some form of laborer. I was doing my thing when I got into a verbal altercation with some dude in the production company. Over what? I can't remember. But we went back and forth until I said 'fuck you'. And he got up and physically threatened me. I then told him to fuck off, and that if he did put his hands on me he would be sorry. So he reached out and palmed the back of my head, propelling me by it, forward. "What are you going to do now?" He asks me angrily. Now, I really had to think about it. I really did. I thought for another second or two. This dream foe was not so big and threatening, neither did I think that he could beat me in a fair fight. Not even a down and dirty one. I just didn't feel like retaliating. But the animal side quickly took over, and the medulla oblongata flexed it's muscle. I lashed out with my right fist at his face, and itn that instant I felt the covers fall away from my fist as it exploded out from me and went to the wall next to my bed. I pulled the punch within seconds, only punching the wall lightly. Not even enough to hurt my knuckles.
I rose. It was a quarter to 10:00AM. I'm fucked up now. Late means just that. I hopped up and headed upstairs, grabbing my meds before they shut down the nurses' station, and then hit the bricks, heading for Starbucks and wondering where I would sit. You see, the last time that I was in the Astor Place Starbucks, they did a little furniture swapping. They had purchased these nice, comfortable easy chairs and guess where they put them?? In the small, little space that was the Eye of God. That's right, they fucked up my most favorite seat. I even tried them out, to see how they would feel. The table that they had there was much shorter, making me lean over farther. The chair sunk in too far, making it impossible to get any back support.
Basically, it was miserable.
Upon entering I found a table near a socket, not far from the Eye, but it was no Eye. There would be nothing to replace it. Thats's alright. that's quite fine. I sat down and got comfortable where I was at. Like the song goes: "If you can't love the one you want, then love the one you're with." I sat and started working on the Homeless Handbook, changing the pagination and getting it ready for work. Then, I began the work of writing the damn thing, of using the outline to form ideas, and to put them down on paper. I was pleased with my product. It was flowing quite easily. Easier than I had expected.
I also blogged, getting as much out of the way before the SHOUT OUT. Last night I printed out a bunch of poems for reading today, also the sign up sheet, and the feature's bio. All was ready for action. I was ready for action.
Soon it was time for me to take the walk across town to the reading. I marched through the surprisingly warm afternoon to get to OTTO's and waited for the barmaid, who came on time today. Which was also surprising. From there we set up for the show quickly and got started. It was a fair show, with the usual suspects, and some new faces. Our feature was on the money and we went through the entire show ON TIME today. One thing that I would like to impress on our bartender, is that if she gets us in on time, we'll leave on time. Two hours is two hours. That is not to be dictated by her, only the manager.
We ended and headed outside, standing before the building, in our usual fashion, bullshitting the night away. That's what I call it now, because there is no sun in the sky. The sun has fallen behind the buildings at this time. It was night time for all intents and purposes. But it did not stop us from congregating there long enough for me to get my weekly fix of fried chicken wings. Now I see some of you out there smiling. Here is a homeless guy, standing in the middle of the block with a cheese eating grin, holding up a chicken wing. What a photo that would make. But shit. It's damn good comfort food. And some good fuckin' eatin', as my pop would say.
We wander up the block with D2theL, and I say goodbye to my brother and him at Union Square. I stroll back to the Box and make it to my bed. I wanted to write a bit, blog a bit, send out a few emails, but for some reason or another I was just too tired.
No one was in the dorm, surprisingly. I was alone for the first time in awhile.
I put away my baby and crawled into the bed.
I went to sleep.
HobobobSource URL: http://idontwanttobeanythingotherthanme.blogspot.com/2008/11/medulla-oblongata-to-rescue.html
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