Planet of the Apes

The picture on the right was captured by moi, yesterday around 4:45pm, strolling back to my car in Davis Square. I think that's the silhouette of a couple in the middle of a slap fight while defying gravity. The fire plug makes it for me. It was pretty mild, and a lot of women had unpacked their legs and breasts to take them out for an early run. Magnifiques filles, toute l'attention de mérite! Nothing wrong with glancing at a twist, just don't gawk or glare. Glance, don't gawk or glare...I like that. It's also not good to fondle, spank, sniff, squeeze, slap, bite, clutch, squash, jostle, clasp or yell things. Just sip your coffee and take it all in.

And for every 1 attractive man or woman out there, there are at least 10 grotesque trogs floating around. Give them all your brief attention, for in the dark we are all God's children. It's just that in the light most people look like a monkey wearing a fanny pack. That reminds me of a comment made by Jerry Remy, the "color man" for the Red Sox who also owns a restaurant in Kenmore Square that sells $12 hot dogs. During a game on one hot, summer night, the camera panned the crowd at Fenway. There was a pause in the commentary, and then Remy said, "Now there's a good-looking crowd." They were laughing so hard in the media booth that they turned the microphones off. It wasn't even the bleachers.

Now I have to go to Walgreen's and pick up some prescriptions and perhaps a bag of Twizzlers. I'm not going to say anything about the Karl Rove dance at the little media shindig the other day. It's all been said before, and frankly I just want to wash my eyes and forget I ever saw it. I wish Cheney shot that poor, evil bastard in the face a long time ago.

Reach On Up

There's an enormous black man downstairs right now, his name is Dobie. He's my father's visiting nurse. This is his third visit. He's a very thorough fellow with a good bedside manner and an affable disposition. He speaks at least one more language than I do, and that makes me feel inferior. Then again, he's a nurse and I'm a mentally ill fat fuck, so there's that, too. It doesn't matter though, as I'm used to feeling low about myself. Except when I'm talking to a Republican, that is...especially a Bush supporter. Fortunately, around here that's a rare encounter. Sure, I like to feel superior, but that's too high a price to pay. All of my friends are more intelligent than I, and that's the way I want it. It raises you up. When I'm in the room with a talkative Bush supporter, I feel a black hole of stupidity and ignorance tearing through time and space and putting us all at risk. I should run, but I have yet to do that. I always get sucked into a debate with a person who thinks Jesus spoke English, or that Iraq was behind 9/11.

These encounters are a complete waste of time, something my brother figured out a long time ago. Kent (that's his name) has never hit a person (other than me) that I'm aware of. But if you say something about how Bush is a great president, I'll be all over you. Kent, however, will usually stand silent. If he ever does feel compelled to speak, look out. He turns red, pushes me gently out of the way, and approaches whomever is making an ass out of himself. At that point, people generally back down a bit. Not because Kent is a master of debate, but because everyone gets the vague sense that he is going to beat the shit out of someone. Being my brother, I know that he wouldn't do such a thing. Physically, though, he could...he really could.

If Toulouse, the largest cat I'm aware of, tries to jump into my lap one more time I'm going to pick him up and let him outside, via one of the 2nd floor windows. And now here comes Panther. I just can't keep the pussy away from my lap. La la la.

Time and Space

A chronological list of the things I've done so far today.

I woke up all panicky, like my plane was going down
Watched a show about how to pickle...pickles
Took a shower and cleaned things on my body
Put on the exact same clothes as yesterday, except for underwear
Threw out old bread to the birds
Went to the store to get new bread
Noticed that there are gum drops on the ground all around my neighbor's flat
A guy at the FoodMaster said, "Fake it 'til you make it."
Talked to my psychiatrist's secretary on the way home
Took some of the pills I'm supposed to take
Wrote one paragraph for "19."
Cleaned what looked like dried semen off my black pants

Those are the highlights. I'm putting together a highlights list for my life, which may or may not be longer. I'll post it later. "19" is a story I'm writing. It's about a soldier who finds out that his commanding officer is a pan-dimensional being who is using that power to solve a strategic problem. So he is putting the same people throught the same thing, 19 different ways. Only one way is correct, so the soldiers who live in 18 of the 19 dimensions are getting "spent" for no good reason. The CO then chooses to live in the dimension where his strategy is successful, to great acclaim. Nobody can move back or forward through time, unfortunately for them.

That's the way it goes.

Depression and paranoid self-loathing have sucked from me my will to live, like the cream from a cannoli. Wah. That's the way the flag flaps. I need narcotics. The only two people I know with access to them also happen to need them. I may be an asshole, but I'm not a fucking asshole...I won't take pain pills from people who need them. So I'll have to walk around as myself for awhile. What a fucking drag.

A Mighty Name

Yeah, depression is fun. Anyway, my brother asked me if I have any ideas for a name for his new puppy. The puppy is adorable, and very small (about the size of a book of matches), and is a cross between a poodle and something else...a marmoset, I think. Regardless, I have a recommendation. "Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwyll-llantysiliogogogoch," is grand, and is the real name of a town in Wales. It's a bitch to pronounce, but it will do wonders for his confidence. Nobody will forget a dog with a handle like that.

The Bright Side

Crashed badly earlier tonight, with unspeakably nasty thoughts about myself swirling in my head. Right now, I'm just trying not to think. I feel less than human, like I'm something else, less than living, even. Every kind word about me, or action towards me, is undeserved. What right have I to speak or write or even breath? As if I have anything to say. I feel like empty space, between people and natural phenomenae. The rocky plateau between the volcano and the sea. I am a pet. I am a retarded fellow who keeps a little blog. Nothing honest or real about me, nothing worth taking the time to understand even if immediately understood. I'm surprised I've a drop of blood in me, or a Social Security number. Who made the mistake of thinking me alive? The one who starts a dirty rumor. That's what I am, a rumor, or suggestion, of a human being. But I'm something else in reality, something humanlike, but also not even organic. Like a hunk of plastic with fake eyes to look into.

Soon I'm going to curl up in bed and take a couple of lorazepam and hopefully start with something else tomorrow. Perhaps a Zyprexa would be good tonight.