December 13, 2004
So I saw my Parole Officer today, and as expected, I signed the forms and was told to call Wednesday to hopefully find out if someone can give me the go ahead for Albuquerque. I imagine they will have "just received the forms" and will ask me to call again by which time it will be too late to make it to New Mexico for the holidays. Let it be known that I have an invitation here for Christmas, so I won’t be alone in any event.
Unfortunately this chore was made all the more difficult because my body seems to be reverting to the pre-testoserone state of fatigue. Mornings are really tough, afternoons somewhat better. I should be able to go in for a shot tomorrow though. And finally the pharmacy located my Xanax prescription. It has been rarely stressful to go to bed at 1 am and not fall asleep until 3. Particularly if you have an annoying tendency to dream that you are still awake and trying to go to sleep.
I tried to meditate after coming home, but the phone rang twice and then I had to get out of here because building inspectors were due and my host would rather not give the impression she is subletting. Saying that she’s just letting a friend stay here because he’s out on parole doesn’t seem to be the smartest route either. Sorry, sometimes honesty is not the best policy.
Andrea drove me to a Fluff n’ Fold where I’m splurging to have my laundry done. It allows me to arrange for a ride to pick it up. It was way too much to haul back on the bus. I found myself in front of the cheap Beverly/Fairfax cinema where Farenheit 9/11 was playing. The movie was a big deal when I was incarcerated, and even though I knew it would drive me nuts to see it now, knowing we were stuck with 4 more years of Bozo, I went in anyway.
I was right It did drive me nuts. I can’t understand this country. 50 million people with all the information they could conceivably need re-elect (and I’m being charitable with the "re," as he was hardly elected the first time.) this cabal of war criminals. I’m rather certain I’m preaching to the choir on this one, so I won’t bother going on. Suffice to say I’m ashamed to be an American.
I also feel lucky to be one, for the crassest of reasons. On the way home, I stopped in at the 99 cents store and bought $15 worth of groceries that would probably have cost an Iraqi housewife’s half of her husband’s monthly salary. Hell, there were an assortment of Angeleno housewives with very full carts, and let me tell you, with that selection, you have to be some creative cook to feed a family decently.
I can only quote the Wicked Witch of the West. "What a crazy world…."
MCO 2004
