Tonic For Your Head

I wake up at a Quarter to Four.

I get up to take leak, but I am staggering a little too much for the morning. Maybe I'm exhausted from spending time with Igor. I crawl back to bed and slip right into sleep to only wake again at Five Thirty. Shit, that tears it! I get up, wash dishes and put on Igor's Starbucks Coffee. I boot up my laptop and do my exercise.

I've a revelation. I can do my exercise every other day and there's less pain, and I can reach my numbers easier. I pulled off my push-ups and sit-ups without breaking a sweat. I'm going to have to raise my numbers soon. I also pound down my meds. While sitting behind my laptop, answering e-mails, I start to feel drowsy. I start doing the heroin nod. My head gets foggy and it becomes hard to concentrate. What the fuck? I'm dead end sleepy. I get up and crawl into bed and slip directly into sleep.

I wake up at a Quarter to Eight. And get behind my laptop, tearing away UNTIL I GET DROWSY AGAIN! This time I'm going to ignore it, but I can't. My eyelids are like lead, my head starts to hurt, and I start to experience confusion. It's time to stop and crawl back into bed. Once again, I sleep like a baby for another hour. My head is clear. Time now, Eleven Thirty. The SHOUT OUT is approaching fast. I blog like a motherfucker, until it is time to leave.

The trains are exceptionally nice to me, getting me down to First Avenue in a second. I walked to Otto's and passed a Dunkin Donuts where I went in and ordered a coffee. It was early. Time now: Three Forty. I kill time like a murderer and about Five minutes to Four I walk out to find Cindy Lauper unlocking the gate and letting people in. Damn. She's on time today. I swoop in and set up. While doing so, Brent L comes up to me and asks how is the SHOUT OUT. You know me, I'm catastrophizing so I say that its 'alright'.

Well, instead it turns out to be a blast! The place was packed with people lining out into the hallway! And the talent... whoa, the talent was just amazing. Except for a comic who crashed and burn, it was a wild and crazy afternoon. Oz's band, DEEP INTENT came and backed up D-Lite and others with their big assed sound. At the breaking down of the show I asked Brent how did he like it. He beamed in return. "I had a great time." That coming from Brent is a good sign that we are doing something right. He has some pull in the poetry circuit and a good mention from him goes a long way.

We spilled out onto the sidewalk and con- gregated. Fred A was throwing a big bash at his crib. Normally we might have gone to Fred's jam because he knows how to throw some doozies, but we had already agreed to go to D2theL's joint for beers and an excellent hang out. We say our good nights and ride the Way uptown and chill. OBSIDIAN literally crashes after he drinks a few beers and eats a couple of slices of pizza. He's been having a tough time sleeping lately on the hard streets. D2theL and I watch CASABLANCA without sound, and play name that tune on his party playmix. I chill, drinking beers, while D2theL stretches out in his easy chair, until Ten O'clock...late. I wake up OBSIDIAN and we say our farewells. Now I don't know if it was mixing alcohol with my meds, or mixing alcohol with a joint but I was pretty 'squared up and down' hit. I say goodbye to OBSIDIAN in the Times Square Train Station and stagger my ass home.

On the way I head to the nearby Duane Reade to pick up something to drink and snack on before bed. I get a hand cart and work my way down an aisle when I hear my name called out AGAIN! I don't have to look to know who it is. The only person on the planet that views my name as an exclamation. Up ahead, at the other end of the aisle is Igor. I turn to run like a motherfucker being chased by a ghost, but thought the best of it. He had already seen me. Sup Igor? "How are you??!" He is genuinely interested. Nothing much dude. "So what are you doing here?" Shopping. Getting dinner. "Hey, there is a nice burger place right around the corner. Why don't you come and join me for dinner?!" No thanks, Igor. I'm tired and need to hit the hay. "Awww come on, you'll have a great time." I'm sure I would but I'm tired tonight. 'Are you sure," he is crestfallen again. Yeah, I'm sure boss, maybe next time. "REALLY?!" He lights up again. "Sure, sure the next time." Take care, Igor, and then I head the fuck out of dodge.

I hit the bed hard and is out like a light.

This was a long day.

I'm not as young as I used to be.

Hobobob

Boom.

HobobobSource URL: http://idontwanttobeanythingotherthanme.blogspot.com/2009/02/tonic-for-your-head.html
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