Angel Train and a Cup of Joe

March 16, 2012

Sometimes I think she’s the prettiest girl alive. She might be. She certainly is to her boyfriend (I hope). Long black hair. Big brown eyes. Petite and well proportioned. I’ve never had a real life conversation with her. I haven’t even physically seen her in a couple of years. I rarely see her post on facebook. I rarely think about her. This has little to do with my story except it’s about her. Carmella or Bailey. The 2 names I’ve assigned to her for anonymity sake. She is still my guardian angel. I only have interactions in my dreams and they are not always significant either. She’s in my life and subconscious for a reason.

 

Her face was the last one I saw before my alarm went off at 7 am this morning. I woke up with a smile. The thought of her always gives me a smile. My dreams of her always give me a smile. Maybe I should think of her more so I smile more.

 

The dream wasn’t anything out there or cosmic. It was a dream of hanging out with a bunch of friends after an unrelated dream. Half of the friends I knew and half I didn’t. Only Joe, Brian and Seth were actual real friends from real life. The rest were acquaintances and people I’ve seen before like Bailey who I choose to call my guardian angel. We were all riding a train going ot an event of some kind. A concert, a parade, a convention. It was some event I normally wouldn’t go to and ride a train to. I was hanging mostly with Joe. He was out of character. Not at first.

 

Joe was his usual self drinking a coffee and letting me talk when I spotted Bailey. I wanted to point her out to him because I’ve talked to him more than anyone about her. He seemed too distracted by the people and the good time and tuned me out. This wasn’t the unusual part. Just as I was trying to tell him about my guardian angel personified he chugged a 5 hour energy drink and as we got off the train Joe ran off into the distance forcing me back in the crowd next to Bailey and a girlfriend of hers that I have spoken to but didn’t know real well. I was forced by the crowd to exit the train next to Bailey. I told her what Joe had just done.

 

“He drank all of that coffee and a 5 hour energy drink on an empty stomach? That’s crazy. No wonder he’s running off with all of that temporary energy.” Bailey spoke to me for the first time in what I perceived as real life in my dream.

 

How did she know all of the details when I didn’t know them all? I was just overjoyed that she spoke to me and said something back to her to make her smile. She has the brightest happiest smile that made me smile more. The damned alarm went off before  could talk to her more. That’s all I wanted.

 

But still, I woke up with a smile and felt compelled to write about it. About her.

 

Is it possible to be in love with someone I don’t know? Or am I just in love with the Bailey that appears in my dreams? I’m not even sure what love is. This dream and my thoughts of her will fade within the day and it’ll probably be months before I think or dream of her again but I know she’ll be back. I wonder what this means. Then again I wonder a lot of things.

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Shit. Piss. Fuck. Blah blah blah . . .

August 24, 2011

 

Shit. Fuck. Piss. Etc. Man this new way of life is making my new way of living extremely difficult. Blah. Blah. Blah.

 

My bills exceed my income every month. Ever since I moved in this house of hell in October 2010 with my good friend and now moody, secretive passive aggressive roommate. My  landlord is also a friend and an aggressive no bullshit type landlord who gets upset when money is late for the rent and the electric and water bills he pays for this house. Blaah bla blah.

 

Piss. Shit. Fuck. I’ve been out of work since May 2010. I was living with my adopted mom. I had a lot of money in the bank and little rent to pay. It was a great deal and I wanted to get my creative projects finished despite my little unemployment checks. I published my first novel a few days after I was fired for example. I wanted to carry the unemployment and my savings as long as I could. I picked up a little labor work with my uncle here and there. Life was good. Not for my Mom. I could tell she wanted me out. Blah. Blah Blah.

 

Fuck. Piss. Shit. An opportunity arose that I couldn’t resist. My friend owned the house next door to his and was renting it out cheap. It’s a 2 bedroom house and I knew a friend that I had talked about getting a place together for years. It was all set for October 1st 2010. I had plenty of money to last me 3 months or so. I figured I’d get a job at that point. I know I’ve written about this shit so many times but I need to update it for me and possibly you. Blah. Blah. Blah.

 

Shit. Fuck. Piss. When all other options were dwindling I tried to work. A good friend of mine at the time hooked me up with a phone collections job where he worked. It was straight commission. I have 10 years experience doing phone sales and I had high hopes for this job. I was excited. The guy hiring me interviewed me and hired me pretty fast but kept putting off the training date. A week before I was to start my Trigeminal Neuralgia (TN) came out of a 2-year remission. It affected me pretty badly and my Bipolar disorder and anxiety were back in full force. I over slept on my second day of training. I tried calling several times to save my job to no avail. My friend that got me the job told me to just come in person. I was in pain and depression and fear. I lost the job. It was then that I realized that maybe I am unable to work.  Blah blah blah.

 

Piss. Shit. Fuck. It was around this time my adopted mom suggested I pursue the wonderful world of Social Security Disability. She was the last person I know that would support me going on SSD. She has never thought that I was incapable of working. She saw the change. She even read up on Trigeminal Neuralgia and Bipolar disorder. Several acquaintances also suggested I try to apply for SSD. On even had an agency that handles everything for you for a percentage of the retro disability reimbursement called Allsup. I called and started the process back in February 2011. It’s now nearing the end of August and I’m still getting letters and now doctors appointments with their doctors. Blah blah blah. Shit

 

This shit. This piss. This fucking piss shit waiting period could last forever. I have another appointment with a neurologist and then I’m told it will take another month to process and make a decision. I’m kind of happy I get to see the doctors and they can see for themselves what a mess I can be. Blah. After a month my SSD case can go several ways. The best scenario is I get accepted, Allsup takes their cut of my retro pay and I get a check just big enough to pay back the people I borrowed money from, catch up on my immediate bills and then get my barely comfortable monthly check. Blah blah. Or I get rejected and Allsup will fight the rejection and it starts all over again and can take another 3 -6 months or more. Shit. Blah.

 

Fuck, shit piss. The other option is that my case will be moved into another level of evaluation whatever the fuck that means and it will be a few more months of waiting. Then there may be another level of waiting. Waiting. Blah. Fucking blah… My unemployment may be running out in November and if there is no decision by then I am more fucked then I feel like I am now. Blah. Blah blah.

 

Shit. Piss. Fuck. I have had enough. I have never been so broke. I have never had to ask friends and family and friends like this before. My depression, anxiety and face pain are at the extreme. Despite this fact I go numb with denial and escape and want to run, hide (if I could move) or take some deluded yet creative and possibly successful drastic moves. Blahhhhh

 

Bills piling. Shit. If something doesn’t change I could be carless, homeless and broke in even more major debt than ever. Piss. Helpless? Hopeless. I’m not sure. All I know is that I had enough. Enough.

 

Not sure where I will go from here to deal with this shit. All I know is that something has to be done soon before my life is complete udder piss. I have to fuck things up somehow in a different direction. Fly my own . ..blah blah blah… etc…

 

Must win or die trying.

 

 


I want to be Different so I can Fit in with the Different People

December 20, 2010

Hipsters, scenesters I don’t wanna be-sters. At one time I thought I wanted to be one. I always loved the word “hip” but I found out that there is a “crowd” for everything including the “hip”. Ever day, every month and ever year I realize more and more that I am a misfit, an outsider or a freak as I was called in High School.

 

Not that I ever tried to fit into a group but found myself hanging with different “in crowds” through the years and I always come to the same conclusion. I don’t fit. I won’t fit. Now I realize that I don’t want to fit. I don’t really care. I have enough trouble fitting in my own skin at times.

 

The other day I went to Fishtown in Philadelphia to do a book reading and signing of my novel at cool book store called Germ Books. They specialize in UFO, conspiracy theories and occult literature. I might have called it hip at one point. I was semi-early and the owner wasn’t there yet so I went to the corner to a coffee shop. I walked into the shop and the place reeked of hipsters. They didn’t literally stink but there was an aroma of another kind.  An aroma of pretentiousness. Maybe they all weren’t pretentious but I got that feel.

 

Now over the years I have gown less and less tolerant of “clicks” or “gangs” of people. I get extremely uncomfortable around a group of more than 3 people especially if they are of the same age, race, uniform etc. This is no different.

 

The band King Missile had a song called I Want to be Different. The lyrics were spoken and the singer says “I want to be different. I want to fit in with the different crowd.” I used to feel that way.

 

For a moment I thought “This is where I should be reading my novel.” Then immediately thought the opposite. These people would be too worried about how they appear in front of one another and not paid any attention. I assumed that they probably couldn’t afford my novel anyway. Ha. I can be so judgmental at times. Hey- I’m human.

 

As I waited in the long line watching these people and  feeling uncomfortable it hit me that I was dressed and carried myself like them. I had the look and I wish I didn’t. These feelings combined with my claustrophobia and semi-social anxiety I fled as fast as I could to get out and drink my coffee and have a smoke before the reading.

 

When it was time to read I looked around at the sparse room of a handful of people and thought how much better it was in the bookstore with people that are truly themselves and interested rather than part of a click. I don’t want to be the “in” event or the “hip” person to see. I want to be me, whatever that is at any given time and be around people that are themselves. Outsiders, freaks, misfits.

“I’m Hip” -Maynard G Krebs


Narrator’s View

October 26, 2010

Your not so humble narrator has been out of it for a bit. Not keeping up on the blogging. He’s been writing but not anything for the site. For you to pity or indulge in. For you to read, dear reader. Seems like there was nothing to say and too much to say at the same time. Doing nothing and everything at the same time.

 

Almost a month in the new house and everything has settled for him. He is not having the freak outs and anxiety like before the move. It took a few weeks for him to get back in the groove of writing. Busy unpacking, enjoying the new HD 40’ flat screen TV, getting rejected by women, reading and pretending to look for work. He still wants to avoid it as long as possible. Some days the day is seized and productive and other days are wasted away but overall your self-absorbed narrator’s life is pretty good. Living a day at a time and pretty much working on one project or another.

 

He sees great things in the horizon and knows it’s not going to happen over night and without hard consistent work. Stubborn and determined to see it through until the end and then maintain. New business ventures. New books to be written. New stories to be told. For such an isolating loner your narrator certainly has a lot of stories based on life and fantasy. Thank God. If it wasn’t for art he would have no purpose.

 

Stay tuned as he says “I did it again.” What he did or does or is doing is yet to be determined but I’m sure it will be documented for all to read and see, That’s you the reader.

 

“Thank you for reading and I hope you keep it up.” Says the narrator.


Facebook “Pokes” May Lead to Prison

September 1, 2010

Be careful who you “poke”. It could lead to imprisonment, fines and worse yet- a suspended facebook account.

May 3oth 2010, Jerry Sabattio, a 54 year old man of  Coldspring, MO was charged with harassment, stalking and lewd internet behavior with under age girls on the popular social networking site Facebook. He was “poking” over a thousand underage girls a day online.

After hundreds of complaints from the girls and their families his account was suspended on facebook and many of the families pressed charges against him. He faces fines up to $5,000 and 1-5 years in jail. Jerry states that he was “just having harmless fun with people. It is a social network after all.”

Police seized his computer and were surprised to find no pornography but only a history of thousands of Facebook pages and most of them were bookmarked ad a favorites. It seems that this 54-year-old accountant and divorcee had a clean record and a clean computer other than the Facebook pages he saved most of which were underage girls that he poked.

Poking is a feature on Facebook that seems to be harmless. On each profile there is a link that says “Poke (fill in the name). A person clicks the button and it gets sent to the recipient’s home page. If they do not “Poke” you back then you can not poke them again unless they delete the announcement of your Poke. Some have found it to be an annoying little feature and chose to ignore it. Some don’t even know that it’s there or what it means. It is intended as a way of saying “hi” without actually having to message a person. Some use it as a form of flirtation and others just do it for the fun of it.

Jerry Sabattio used it to try and get the attention of underage girls and claims “I was addicted. I just go on a profile and hit a button and move on to the next girl. I never said anything rude or even talked to the girls. I just poked them whenever I could and didn’t pay attention to their ages. There is nothing more exhilarating than the feeling of someone actually poking me back.”

After many appeals over the summer his court date is finally set for September 16th 2010 in Douglas County Court House.

Another related story on this YouTube News Report I found. It’s not just men who “Poke” the wrong people.

Personally, I am going to keep on poking and express my freedom of pokes. So poke off.


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