Yet another night, wide awake at 3:30 AM. It's money, naturally, it's always about the fucking money. I wake up, have to take a leak, and then I stand in the darkened hallway in my underwear at the top of the stairs. Should I go back to bed and lie there and have this same shit flow through my mind uncontrollably? Or should I go downstairs to the PC, read my mail, check Face Book and Twitter, pray I don't get lost in a sea of porn and write.
It's been the same way constantly since 2005, since I came so close to shaking off this mortal coil that I could smell the rotted breath of the grim reaper. Truth be told, I didn't feel a thing, I came in and out of consciousness over the span of 24 hours as the "system" carted my carcass from one hospital to another trying to fend off my doom. Those people who say they saw "the light" and heard a gentle voice calling them home? True for them perhaps, but to me it's strictly baloney. The only thing I felt were the beginning twinges of my body starting to rot to be later turned into fertilizer to be spread on some rich assholes lawn. Some heaven.
3:56 AM and I have gotten an epic two paragraphs squeezed out. I gotta take another leak.....
Everyone tells me it's a miracle I'm alive, I have heard it so long that I actually begin to believe it, sort of. If you want to know the truth sometimes I feel like I am being kept around so that I can fill the coffers of the corporate jackasses who didn't swindle enough from me during the first 50 years of my life. The sons of bitches are squeezing now, though, and it's puckering the holy be-Jesus out of my sphincter.
Back when I got sick and my business went down the tubes I had no choice but to take cash advances from my credit cards and rolled up and incredible $40,000 in debt. I've knocked it down by more than half, paid off one card and am trying to make deals with the remaining two. It's like dealing with Beelzebub himself. I mean with late payments and interest and all I have more than paid off the original loan, paid it all and then some. Brother, when they got you by the short hairs they just won't let go, it's a damn fact!
Painting by L.A. artist Alex Schaefer
4:23 AM~ two cups of coffee down and now I'm starting to yawn like a bastard. It worked, I've sat here and typed long enough that I'm sure I can go and pass out for a couple of hours and awake to a new day. The first day of the rest of my "glass 1/2 empty" life. Step in a pile of dog shit while I'm looking for some flowers to smell.....you know the drill.