Superbowl At Howard's
Berta and Ken were in mourning over the Saint's having lost their game due to a bad call and were boycotting the game along with any Superbowl Party that might otherwise have been in full swing as I arrived there after having walked a mile from the bus stop -one of the inconveniences of having the bike stolen.
Jacob said he would bring me a bike tomorrow, out of the few that are parked in the backyard of Bob, his guardian's, house.
The immediacy of the solution to the problem of the bike having been stolen has hit me before having it stolen had fully sunk in.
I learned that I have a habit of only picking up one day's supply of things while at the store. This led to me taking a short bike ride to one or more of the local stores. These are now more like 12 minute walks or rides on the 3 dollar per day street car.
Today, with some small apprehension, I grabbed 3 of what I normally would grab only one of, as well as two cans of Harold's food.
Jacob had given me a ride up to the store, after we had gone and gotten a bag of kratom that we split the cost of.
He is being allowed to roam freely again after his having been busted with weed, but must see a counselor. He was pleasantly surprised when the "addiction" counselor did not poo poo kratom. It is used by recovering addicts to mitigate the symptoms of withdrawal.
Jacob had only been back to the Uxi Duxi once since I was barred.
When asked why he hadn't been around much, he explained that it was because of me being barred, and was able to obtain the further information on the subject that the decision did indeed originate solely with Den-A the owner, and wasn't by "popular consensus," as I had been informed. That had been told to me probably so I wouldn't try to go there when those baristas that are my friends were on duty.
I came down to the computer lab at Sacred Heart and figured I would at least post something here because:
A: My mother worries if I go too long without posting that I am either in jail or my body is somewhere where it hasn't been discovered and/or identified yet.
I am having my guitar worked on by Bobby in Building C, but I probably could have gone out and played it. The new "nut" -made out of bone, by the way- hasn't set, but I would have to be a pretty much out of control pick flailing skeezer, playing a song like "Sweet Jane," by Lou Reed And Velvet Underground, in a drunken state and mis-striking the strings bad enough to put lacerations in my hand that I wouldn't feel until the next morning, in order to knock the piece on it out of place...
It just turned midnight, into Wednesday, February 6th.
State Of The Union
Bobby almost ruined the president's State of the Union address by loudly hurling insults at the TV.
I guess I'll go back to NPR radio after I do this to see what their fact checking of the thing yielded.
Bobby keeps CNN on his TV that covers half a wall, just about all day.
Berta and Ken were in mourning over the Saint's having lost their game due to a bad call and were boycotting the game along with any Superbowl Party that might otherwise have been in full swing as I arrived there after having walked a mile from the bus stop -one of the inconveniences of having the bike stolen.
Jacob said he would bring me a bike tomorrow, out of the few that are parked in the backyard of Bob, his guardian's, house.
The immediacy of the solution to the problem of the bike having been stolen has hit me before having it stolen had fully sunk in.
I learned that I have a habit of only picking up one day's supply of things while at the store. This led to me taking a short bike ride to one or more of the local stores. These are now more like 12 minute walks or rides on the 3 dollar per day street car.
Today, with some small apprehension, I grabbed 3 of what I normally would grab only one of, as well as two cans of Harold's food.
He is being allowed to roam freely again after his having been busted with weed, but must see a counselor. He was pleasantly surprised when the "addiction" counselor did not poo poo kratom. It is used by recovering addicts to mitigate the symptoms of withdrawal.
Jacob had only been back to the Uxi Duxi once since I was barred.
When asked why he hadn't been around much, he explained that it was because of me being barred, and was able to obtain the further information on the subject that the decision did indeed originate solely with Den-A the owner, and wasn't by "popular consensus," as I had been informed. That had been told to me probably so I wouldn't try to go there when those baristas that are my friends were on duty.
I came down to the computer lab at Sacred Heart and figured I would at least post something here because:
A: My mother worries if I go too long without posting that I am either in jail or my body is somewhere where it hasn't been discovered and/or identified yet.
I am having my guitar worked on by Bobby in Building C, but I probably could have gone out and played it. The new "nut" -made out of bone, by the way- hasn't set, but I would have to be a pretty much out of control pick flailing skeezer, playing a song like "Sweet Jane," by Lou Reed And Velvet Underground, in a drunken state and mis-striking the strings bad enough to put lacerations in my hand that I wouldn't feel until the next morning, in order to knock the piece on it out of place...
It just turned midnight, into Wednesday, February 6th.
State Of The Union
Bobby almost ruined the president's State of the Union address by loudly hurling insults at the TV.
I guess I'll go back to NPR radio after I do this to see what their fact checking of the thing yielded.
Bobby keeps CNN on his TV that covers half a wall, just about all day.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Comments, to me are like deflated helium balloons with notes tied to them, found on my back porch in the morning...