Fault those fuckers if you will, but at least they follow up, they're persistent. They said they were going to do something and then they did it. Sure, it's crazy and we're in hell, (not like the poor and fucked up in IRAQ,) but at least we know they'll return your phone call or email and so forth. And none of this do nothing until you hear from me or...no. No. No more nonsense. No more nonsense, say's O'Golly, from Harriet The Spy, the book by LOUISE FITZHUGH, about a girl who wanted to grow up to be a writer...her neighborhood friend's dad was a writer, and the kid took care of every thing, all the expenses, house cleaning and what not. Grow up already buddy. Grow up. Get over it already. Life is tough and fucked up. So what? Why does it have to be so fucking complicated? Fuck it. It doesn't. Depends on how you view it? Yes and no. Where does the view come from? So many things. Too many to be sure. Way out of control. Who knows what's going to happen? How you're going to react?
What am I on about now?
Those f-wads in control of us. The President and Cabinet.
Follow up is next on the list of things to do, and to keep on doing...never giving up, being persistent.
80% percent of life is showing up and being on time or so says Woody Allen. (And we all know now how f-n crazy he is.) Jackie Mason is correct in that, you gotta be crazy to be doing stand up...something's gotta be wrong with you. Heard him recorded long ago today on radio. Classic Radio Interviews, National Public Radio.
The next step is to follow up, says I.
I decided to stop by my dentists' office. Going to confirm Friday's appointment and stop by an adjacent store and check on a pen refill. (It turned out NFG, but could get one...it'd just take a long time.) I got a phone call on my mobile just as I was turning into the lot. Who was it? My dentists' receptionist. Oh yeah, I gotta tell my old one good bye. Talking about follow up...I've not done that. Sue me. Bad karma. But-but no but. Have to do that. Have to get my tooth taken care of tomorrow instead. My, this date with the new hot dentist is turning into a disaster. I'm having to arrange and rearrange completely. Only my second go in, and both were reassigned...if you can't do it then, then why assign it? Why am I such a no body? Fuck it, you know? (Plugged the ear piece into the phone today and the screen went wonky: Some of it upside down, the rest incomprehensible. Is it a sign, an ugly omen, by my new, off-brand/after market battery? Or the replacement screen I got several months ago from this REALLY smoking hot lady at a phone service place. Is it going too? May is the month for new cleo/berry/trio contraption from Verizon. Should I get one of those? Can I bear it with no phone rings like I like, could I fix it with online phone service, email to myself the right bell sound (ring-ring, ring-ring, ring-ring)? Turned the thing off and on again and it was all right. Whew! Paranoia. Omen for things, of disaster to come? Geez, get a grip!!)
Tis crazy, the world today, and thinking about all the people and countries and all, it's very sad. I'm depressed. (Quitting Caffeine again...at least I was able to try that soda stuff of pink/red color so named: Caffeine. Did so yesterday. Was there at a liquor store down road from an English friend I know in Santa Monica, and was there for tea for the tillerman, but found this way too sickly sweet, CO2 bubbling Caffeine drink, even diluted as it were with spring water and some ice I got it together with later on. "I've heard of you", says I. Heard on radio today that it's being taken off the market. Not supposed to say Caffeine if it's not? Or people just pissed about it?)
I'd like to have a companion, a person besides my mother to live with, with whom I'm not married but is said in a way I am. Who wants to live with someone they don't even like? As a person it's awful. Horrible to say I'm sure. Mother's Day Sunday, luckily I work. My Dad I love dearly. So too my mom, but as a person, what I go through, what anger, etc. is procured? No. I hate that. I can't say I hate her. I hate life. And who could live with one's Dad and Stepmother and pets? No. Not me. On my vacation now, and last one was done in those United States of Mexico, I hated that there. Nice place but its not my kind of set up. I like it quiet and without dogs and letting the place go to shit. This year was different. I spent my vacation here in town, avoiding my mother, trying to hook up with a friend from out of town, (It was hit and miss with her. Some grief on my insecure part.), avoiding the fires all across town. O how I love being on my own. Can't beat it, but who can do it? Who can afford it and still have time to do the things one loves? People. Sex. Reading. Paying for every thing? Who can afford it? I should just say: FUCK IT and shovel every thing into the dumpster. Give my Post Office Box key and account to my friend Dr. Jerome, and have that be that. Move to some town where there's no need of a car for myself. But, where to? Who would have me? What would I do? How would I survive?
If James Lipton were to ask me what would I want to have St. Peter say to me, I'd want him to say: We're Sorry. We fucked up. (Esp. sic. if I don't get to be a published author and get another bitchen gal pal to hang around with...my first was way cool but so much got in the way and then she had to go and change her mind/emotions for some damn reason. Fuck!) And, there ya go, eternal rest. You don't have to put up with any more bullshit ever again. The End.
--Buckyneal, Dateline: Behind the Orange Curtain once again.