I wake up to the world.
It's not pleasant. I missed the meeting with Charliqua Lovebiscuit at WECARE, so now I'm waiting for her to give me an alternate date, or cancel my benefits. That's what they do. Do what they say, or suffer the consequences. The consequences for me is back on the streets. Back on the streets, in the cold. That's where I'm headed. If this fucking recession doesn't end and I can find a decent job, that's where I will end up.
Shit. I mope. I do what I do best, stay at home and watch television. I don't move. I'm afraid to move. I stay put. Funny how life is. It does not allow you to stay put. It does not allow you to do what you want. I go outside to get a sandwich and walk into Snow White in the hallway. This white sheet of paper perks up when she sees me. She is a very attractive woman, drained of all color. Even red, for blood. She is pale, pale, and a fucking turn on. How have you been doing Hobobob? I haven't been DOING you, that's for sure, Snowy.
I tell her about my going to the hospital, my new therapist, my drugs that he put me on. She wants me to come down and see her in her office later. Sure, why the hell not? I like staring into your blue eyes. Whatever. I go to Subways and get a hero sandwich and call it a day. I go to my room, and my brother pops up on IM. What am I doing today? Nothing. Want me to come over with a quart of something? FUCK YEAH!
I go downstairs to talk to Snow White. We ramble. I am trying to explain things to her and somehow we get to the point that I'm not pleased with Dr. Energy. I can only see him once a month. This is not good for me. I want to get out of my room. I want to mingle with the world. I want to feel a part of humanity once more. Once a month sessions will not cut it. She brightens up again, like a 70 watt bulb, and for a very white girl, this is not hard. I can see the doctor here in the building. What? There is a psychologist in the building. I can see her once a week, and she is very good. Snow White highly recommends her. Come down and see her. I will, I tell her. What an incredible idea. A psych right here on the premises. This is absolutely wonderful. I head home.
OBSIDIAN soon arrives, and we go and buy a bottle of vodka and bring it up to the room. For some reason or another we need each other now, we need to talk, to relate. We do so. There is a meeting of the minds. I tell him something that I think we need to do. Something that I think we have to do. Introduce people to poetry on a larger scale. Introduce people to us on a larger scale. I mention that I would like to pitch a show to NBC. A show that would incorporate poetry, music, antics and comedy. We have so many ideas. This could work. But the problem. EVERYBODY is pitching ideas. NBC is not a place that you can go and pitch an idea openly. They are NOT looking for you. They don't care about you and your idea. HOW do you pitch to NBC?
Shit. Maybe nearly impossible, but I have to try. OBSIDIAN likes the idea and wants me to run with it. I will find a way in. I will. That's what I do. I am a salesman at heart. I can do this. What I can do better is get plastered. I do. I get totally wrecked where I don't even feel the passage of time. OBSIDIAN leaves and I put him on the elevator and say goodbye. I head to my room and finish drinking. That's what you have to do when you are a drinker, you have to settle yourself into the Brown World correctly. I put myself down, drinking several strong drinks until my mind swoons and I'm ready for bed. I've put myself down.
I relate to my life now. I understand that I have nothing to lose, nothing to barter. I am at the lowest point in my life. I understand that the only thing I have left are the ideas in my head. I just have to get them to people who will give me a break and let me reach the masses. Television, publishing, radio. ANYTHING. I need to reach out to the people and let them judge me. I need a chance, just one opportunity. That is what is amazing to me. ONE chance is all that I need. Which means that I can try as much as I want. I can do whatever I want. Try, try, try. All I need is one hit, and I'm in.
The odds are in my favor. I can win this.
Why not try? Or die? Funny, trying and dying rhymes.
Watch out for us. We are not finished yet. My head hits the pillow, the world swirls, and I am gone. Lifted up and dissipated into the brown world. I am where creativity thrives, where my mind is unburdened. Where I am free to be me.
Where I can dream about a beautiful red headed woman who is just out of reach.
I am now in heaven.
HobobobSource URL: http://idontwanttobeanythingotherthanme.blogspot.com/2010/02/serenity-is-my-home.html
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