Let The Drama End

Alright so I blew it off.

The big Taurus party at the Nightingale. I didn't go simply because I have a lot to do this week. You can't make it to every venue, every party, every opening, every art show, every book reading, every launch party. You can't. I had to do food shopping, and I had to stay online. Of which I did. But even though I spent until the wee hours of the morning on the computer, I vowed to slack off online a bit.

The next morning, I did not go online, but took care of other things. I wanted to spruce up my room a little so I printed out photographs from my computer, that makes some decent prints. I hold them up and I'm surprised as to how close they look like the images in the computer. Amazing. I got out of the room, walking down the stairs to the first floor, even though the elevator was working. I'm going to use the stairs from now on. The broken elevator started it. I'll finish it.

I went to Walgreens and bought a few picture frames. Coming back in, I stopped and got breakfast/ lunch and then attacked the stairs, heading up, this time non stop. I ended up on my floor winded, tired and weak, but I did it all in one pop. No stopping on the sixth floor to catch my breath. Once back home, I still didn't jump online, but instead put picture frames around my room, and one in my altar. Now, it's beginning to look like someone lives here.

I stopped when done, looked at my laptop, and sat down before her, staring at the mIRC icon on the wallpaper. Instead I went to writing emails. Soon, it is time for me to pack it up for group. I head down and across town to Dr. D's group, and the minute I get to the building a black and white pulls up and two cops step out and walk with me into the building. I don't like cops. I don't dislike them as much as distrust them. I think it comes from years of being homeless, and having run ins with them for trespassing or simply being sleep in the wrong place at the wrong time.

They regulated my life to no end, actually becoming the torturers for the Bloomberg army. I still feel trepidation whenever they are about. They pile in the elevator with a number of others. I wait for the next one. When I get to group, the room is abuzz. Apparently the police was called for one of our number, for going into the women's bathroom, and then acting erratically. His name is Afga. So here I am, sitting down, trying to get calm when Afga walks in and sits down next to me, speaking in rapid Albanian, frantic and angry. Dr. D. tries to calm him down, tries to console him, tries to get to the bottom of what happened, while his wild gesticulations and squealing voice has me on full fucking full alert. I need this shit.

His ranting soon subsides, which was good, because I was about to grab one of these aluminum chairs and start beating him into submission with it. But then again, I might miss and his nutty ass might make me eat the fucking chair. I don't think I'd like that. Soon, we are talking about our neuroses. I tell Dr D. That I haven't been out of my room for days because I'm on IRC. He takes the data and instantly processes it. "This is not good, Hobobob, because you will easily replace your relationships in real life with those online. The online ones are easier, more seductive, requires less from you. You don't even have to leave your room for human interaction. All this is not good. You must get out of that room, even if it's just a few hours a day, every day." What do you suggest, Doc? "I don't want you to go to a park right now. I don't want to cause a response. Can you just walk around the block?" How about if I go downstairs to get breakfast and lunch every day. "Does it require some form of human interaction?" Yes. "Well, by all means, do that. Get out of the room and interact with people some."

That was then the plan, get out of the room some. I finish with therapy and head to Madison Starbucks to meet up with my brother, and from there we head on the F train into Brooklyn. The Park Slope section to be exact, to a small restaurant called PERCH. I fire off some shots of the outside and then we walk inside and to the back. Once there we find the featured speaker at the mike, reading his work, a friend of his and the two hosts of the venue, Richard and Candace. That's it. That's all. OBSIDIAN was thinking of melting into the audience and not reading tonight, but now there was no audience for my brother to melt into. When the featured speaker was done, we were asked directly to read. I went first, OBSIDIAN reluctantly went second.

The reading was over quickly and I had the opportunity then to shoot pictures of Richard and Candace for the online magazine that I do work for, and then they said goodnight, only after Richard bought us a round of beers. I had some money, so OBSIDIAN and is sat around and drank, talking to the two waitresses until closing. We headed out into the Brooklyn night and found the Way, working our up into Manhattan, and then uptown to the West Side. After some traveling I find myself at home finally. I do not think about the elevator. I quickly hit the stairs and with my heavy bag on my back, trudge upstairs to my floor. I was never so proud of myself.

I set my bag down, set up, and go online. I slip into IRC for the first time today and go to my favorite chat room. It was empty. I waited for a few minutes but no one arrived, so I left. I crawled into bed early, around 1:00am and fell asleep.

It was a long day.

HobobobSource URL: http://idontwanttobeanythingotherthanme.blogspot.com/2009/05/let-drama-end.html
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