2015-02-25 23:04:47 UTC
for Health and Family Services building to turn in a form they sent me,
for some respectable citizen to attest that I do indeed live alone at
this address, took less than 10 minutes: I filled out another form,
waited till the lady at Window #2 summoned me over, then watched her
scan the document into the computer system. That was it. And today was
actually above freezing and not windy so reading my Kobo Halal while
waiting half an hour for the bus wasn't painful or even very boring. It
helps to be able to carry around a few hundred books in something the
size of a stack of big postcards. And so my groceries will be paid for
for another useless empty year.
Then at the transfer point downtown I strolled into the cigar store
across from the Central library and got an ounce of English Oriental
pipe tobacco and a couple cheap cigars, for a total hit of $6.95.
Tobacco isn't ordinarily anything I'd do, not after kicking cigarettes
15 years ago, but I'll be 52 years old in less than two weeks and
apparently all I have to do is outlive my dog. If all there is to look
forward to is getting older & more alone I might as well enjoy myself
once in a while. (It's too bad I can't afford heroin or crack.) And then
I stopped in at the Save-a-Lot on my way from the bus stop and got among
other things a Family Pack of some kind of steak they'd marked down to
$3.99/lb, to get one into my stomach before I lit a stogie stump and
made an inroad into my remaining bourbon. (Yes I know it's not even 5
o'clock yet, fuck you.)
At this point I'm just going to assume that only those dogs will ever
have any use for me as a person, that I have indeed lost a chance at
making one real friend by freaking out all winter. Had I not done that
for instance she might have told me what was obviously troubling her.
What good is it to tell someone "you can talk to me about anything"
after she's formed the opinion that you're one flaky fruitcake? Of
course this could just be "depressive realism," speaking bitterness to
the Universe, but then pessimism has never disappointed me.
It's not like she can help being the most interesting and intriguing
human being I've happened across in a good 10 years; nor did she never
promised me anything, she only wasted $5 on me once, and she was saved
from having to "discipline" me only because I got banned from the site.
If it wasn't her typing those notes, which was only part of the job:
it's not like I could ever justifiably expect any corporation, agency or
person to choose me when there's ever any alternative. What good is the
undying allegiance of an obvious defective?
Yes I'm in a shitty mood. No fucking shit. I'm hoping this afternoon of
excess will purge it from my system, temporarily at least, that by
becoming intoxicated and spewing at the Internet I'll make some room for
personal positivity after I recover. And if not, if this is just another
episode of David wasting time, well, it's not like I have anything to
lose: I can almost guarantee I'll be able & available to walk the dogs
tomorrow afternoon, and what goes on between now & then is irrevelant to
my one useful function.
Today's new revelation is this: I hate asking anybody for anything. I'd
rather spend money, and I hate spending money. If I've asked you for
directions, for change for dollar, for literally the time of day, you
may consider yourself flattered; if I've asked you for anything that
might be significant to you, that might involve some effort, exertion or
investment on your part, you're practically a demigod. (Yes, Davy's
Denture Fund was indeed a joke.) I'd rather hump 20 pounds of potatoes
and 10 pounds of laundry a mile in the cold than ask someone who keeps
offering to drive me and my burden home: imagine what it costs me to
turn to someone and say "please don't leave me alone out here twisting
in the wind." Especially anyone who really owes me nothing, to whom I'm
related neither by blood nor marriage, whose voice I've never even
heard. Twinkle twinkle little star, would you please find some use for
In this case, like I said, it has more to do with the person than
anything else, that this is at most a once in a decade fluke, for which
I ought to count myself lucky: all I have to do to avoid repeating this
is never again encounter another new human being who inspires anything
worth anything from me, which good for me (and sorry for most of you) is
incredibly easy. As for this vulnerability it can be repaired: I need
only cauterize the wound and leave the scar uncovered as a reminder of
what not to do. Never again will I find myself in this position, never
again will I ever be so stupid.
Oh dammit, I know I'm capable of more than this, I've even come up with
a way to be a bit more stable while I'm giving all I can, but I couldn't
sell a starving person a nice juicy pork chop. Dammit dammmit dammit
dammit. At least it's clear that this too shall pass, and that it didn't
cost me very much: only a heart I didn't know was still capable of
breaking and yet another later of insulating bitterness.
If I ever find the deity who did this to me I will slap the smirk right
off its face.