Working on Satuday: Whoring Against the Man

Here I am at work, fixing up some beater computers to donate to a Brooklyn Nonprofit.

Why? So I can be some kind of righteous prick, that's why. I'm helping a nonprofit that does charity work. I'm sure the judge will like it when I try to kill my paper, especially since this charity services a bunch of ex-drug addicts.

Also, I hate the thought of throwing away perfectly usable stuff, especially computers, because I spent so much of the 90's groveling, begging, and digging through trash to put together a computer for my own use. Hey! They were expensive back then, even if you DIDN'T want to play video games.

So, I'm being green, being a goody two-shoes, and even working a weekend to get it done. How far from the grace of being the despicable dope dealer have I gone? I might resemble someone who's truly reformed, but it's a pile of crap. I still don't regret hooking people up with quality LSD. I think it was the right thing to do. I don't recall too many people complaining, until I told them that I wasn't going to provide that service anymore. What can I say? Despite societal labels, I was pretty popular as a drug dealer. Lifestyle I miss. I make up for it these days by handing out candy at work. It's sad, but it is about the best I can do with what I got.

Can I describe to you in non-geek details what installing Windows XP is like on older machines? Imagine trying to drink oatmeal through a straw, that constantly crimps on itself, so it's not like you can do the whole suction-continuous flow trick that works so well for siphoning gas out of other people's tanks... er...

...not that I've ever done that, mind you.

Where was I? Oh yeah, oatmeal and crimping straw. So even though it says it will install in 45 minutes, since I have to babysit the fucker, and it's already running like a slug, it's more like an hour and a half. Disgusting. This is why I switched to Linux. That, and I'm a geek.

So, I'm not getting paid to do this by anyone in particular, so I've now decided I'm not whoring against the man, I'm slutting against the man. Take that, you four!

So I Went To Cali, And All I Got Was This Lousy Redeye.

And for you pervs, no, I'm actually talking about my flight back to NYC.

What can I say? Leaving California gets harder and harder each time. So much so, that during lunch today, I booked my next trip out in November. Yeah, that's how much I miss Cali... I'm not even back five hours to NYC, and I'm making sure I'm returning to NoCal.

So... my trip. I know, you're all dying to hear about it...

But you're not going to like this next part: nothing happened. I had a great time. I chilled with some friends, I chilled with my moms and pops, I got some work ish done on Friday, and tried to get an in at Boalt Law School (didn't seem to work). I ate all kinds of food, I wasn't super cheap with my cash. I hung out a bit in Sac...

In short, nothing worthy of this blog happened. Nothing on me broke - neither the body, nor the heart. But now I'm back, and Chupecabra stares at me with evil intent... sure to exact vengeance, vengeance for my willingness to turn him aside for a measly trip to California.

And, in the spirit of things, I have turned myself over to Bacchus. Also known as Dionysus. Eris: eat shit and die, you've been a bitch to me, and I resent the shit out of it. Get yer head on straight, and we'll talk. Recently, she's been playing with the stock market, and I can honestly say that I feel their pain, I know what it is to have a life in complete turmoil because the goddess has decided that you need change to understand that you're still fundamentally fucked up.

No, I don't retract my statement. Just because I'm fundamentally fucked up, doesn't mean that I need an ancient goddess to point that shit out to me. I do fine enough on my own.

Except for pool. I got my ass kicked at pool yesterday. It would have been embarrassing, but I can always counter that I lost on purpose, because my opponent was attractive. It would be a lie. The losing on purpose part. She whooped me something silly. I could blame the beer, but it actually improved my game.

I mean, who would ever think that a clutz could type, let alone play pool? Well, the former I got covered. The latter? I'm just glad I wasn't betting money with her, she'd clean me out in under an hour (yeah, I'm still broke like that, don't hate! There's nothing beautiful about hate!).

Now, to sleep. Tomorrow brings more work, and maybe one day I'll actually make a funny blog again.

Or I'm just stringing all four of you along (yeah, I got it on good authority that there's four of you curmudgeons now).

Time will be the judge of that.

Pain and Suffering, A Tale of Relationships.

Namely, the one I have with my demon goat of a bicycle.

I mean, naturally, there's pain and suffering with my other relationships, but none are quite so primal as the one I share, daily, with my not-quite-trusted steed, Chupecabra. We've been reconnected after a week and a half apart. Our last time together ended badly, with hurt feelings all around, which in many ways reflects a majority of my romantic entanglements.

However, Chupecabra and I are on the road to reconciliation, and have already taken to the streets of New York City like we never spent any time apart. Outside of the fact I can't push quite so hard - still in recovery mode.

I can't recall if I had done the CT Scan when last I discussed my fate here. Regardless: fractured rib. Good news is that after five and a half years of no longer being a nicotine addict, my lungs have recovered completely. Of course, Chupecabra is on schedule to destroy what remains of my body. Ahh... the price we pay for a moment's pleasure, right?

There's still a blood stain at the base of the Manhattan Bridge, Brooklyn side. I've still got chemicals coursing through my veins, and a lidocaine patch over the rib. This chemical mix has made for some interesting unstable moments, but for the most part, I'm doing well, considering all circumstances.

I'm chalking it up to August 28 - September 28th being my bad month... just slightly off kilter from a regular month. The worst, however, appears to be over. Which means, my faithful three, the comedy is returning, as I once again have a sense of humor about it all.

I mean, ultimately, just because I'm the butt of a joke, doesn't mean the joke isn't funny. This first year out of prison, I both gained and lost a life partner in six months (we obviously had a very different concept of what a life partner is - I was talking human lifespan, she was talking worker ant lifespan), gained and lost a good friend to silence, lost another stalwart companion to graduate school, and gained another from the abyss of the midwest.

Which is to say, my life is in constant flux. A flux that most prisoners would go apeshit over, since nothing in my life has remained stable for this year, outside of my job, my place to live, and my family. It's enough to make a convict cry, I tell you. For the past few weeks, I've felt like I was going to go apeshit myself.

Wait! I'm just kidding! No sob stories here! I'm doing great! No tears, not one! See? The computer didn't short! Everything's okay folx! Nothing to see here! I've recovering! I'm getting better! Don't leave!

Okay. *Whew* almost lost you three.

So, I'm going back to California next weekend. Northern California. Where two of my ex-significant others will be. It'll be my first trip back whereby I don't see either of them. It will be weird in that regard, but good in another - I'm getting a whole lot of work done. I'll be meeting people that will help me secure my place in law school, which in turn helps me secure my future as an advocate to free my people - the prisoners of the drug war.

And that, my fine 3 readers, is no laughing matter.

Now, about that fucking demon goat...

Shameless Plug of Someone Else...

Just, get ready to laugh... David Rees is the shit!

If only I had such talent!