A romp in the park

It's a strange world and for schizophrenics and manic depressives a sad one, too.

Awoken early, sun clawing over hazy horizon, by the pathic yelps and rudimentary comments about someone's repugnant foot odor. It was some hobo sleeping on the floor. Went on for about an hour, these four assholes yelping about the stench, so I rolled out of my bed and shuffled bleary-eyed and dangerous to the restroom to wash up for breakfast. Amid the loud farting and pissing, I splashed water on my face and brushed my teeth in a sink caked with toothpaste scum and beard clippings.

Down three flights of green metal stairs--clang, clang...clang,clang-- and into the cafeteria for breakfast, shuffle through billowing waves of loud chatter and hawking of phlegm. Bowl of Rice Krispies and Victory Coffee. Cold sausage patty slavered in grease jelly if you want it. I don't want it. Jeff, a cool young black cat from Pensacola sits across from me and we talk of pointless shit. Swig down two more shots of Victory Coffee and Jeff and I decide that we need some cash and fast, so we walk up and through Balboa Park to donate plasma.

Once in the clinic, time crawls to a standstill amid fiending junkies as the faceless Filipino nurses dash two and fro in supersonic speeds with charts in hand but nothing gets done. Two hours lapse and I am thrown on the slab and a hellifyingly big needle is shoved up into my arm and my juices sucked out.

Ouch.

After that biological hazard, Jeff and I part ways and I make my way to Balboa Park to go among the wooded trails. Beware of them woods, young man, they be enchanted. Filled with Trolls and Fairies that'll suck the life out of a man. Well, had that done already, today, another time won't hurt.

So, I clomp down into the wooded trail and witness three young guys jacking and sucking each other off. Two white boys and a passive Latino, all with pants down around ankles. Wanting to join in, they disappear into the foliage like frightened squirrels as I approach. Frustrated, I sit on a fallen tree under a leafy covering and enjoy the peaceful nature. That didn't last long. Old sweaty codger in gym shorts and Gay Rainbow necklace strides up to me from the main trail. He stops right in front of me and grabs an overhanging branch.

"Woo! Now that's a hike!" He says and swings his crotch in my face.

"Hey...calm down there, Tarzan." I hiss, noticing his friend walking up from behind.

Old Man looks down at me and smiles, "Yeah, these woods are beautiful. So private. My buddy and I like to hike around here and get our cocks sucked."

I look off and sneer, "Whatever. I'm not interested in your wrinkled old crotch."

Two slink back into the woods and not dare to meet my imperious gaze. I hate old fags.

Maybe it was my negative mojo, but nothing else happened. Perhaps I disrupted the forests chi. So I returned to Vinnies to take a shower and get ready for work. Had the swing shift and I wasn't in the mood to take anyone's shit.

Throughout my life all evil, all wrongdoing boils down to my interaction with the female of the species. Every job I've had---every job---I have had to deal with at least one pinch-faced, sneering, sullen bitch who as soon finds out that I have no interest in their cancerous cunt, become hostile and plot how to make my life a living hell.

Enter Linda Castro, Front Desk Supervisor. A stunning woman in a navy business dress, flowing brown hair, and boobies that straight guys masturbate to.

First day on the job all smiles and roses and sunshine. Even invited me to lunch. I thought she just wanted to break the ice, glad hand to a new employee on benefit of joining the company. Soon the questions started: What do you like to do? What kind of music do you like? Do you like to dance? Do you have a girlfriend? Do you have any children? You seem pretty cool, I hope you don't have any baggage! Tee-hee. And all the while I phase her nasal voice from my head and am studying the hot 19-year-old Latino valet that is eating at another table across from me.

I look her dead in the eyes and say coldly, "I am a homosexual. I can't stand the stench of women...God, the smell. (I wave my fork at her face with that remark.) What do I do? Nothing. I am just waiting to die. I have no interest in anything. I have lost my mind from losing the only love I have ever had and my will to live has expired. I live in filth and degradation and do things that would scare your teeth white. And as for baggage? I have more baggage than LAX and Greyhound Bus Lines combined. Yes, on the outside I may seem "Cool" and look ordinary like the boy next door but down inside it is dark and it is cold and sister, that is something you never want to meet."

"Why the hell did they hire you?" She retorts, trying to stay in control of the situation.

"I said yes." I snapped back.

Well, after that revealing episode, the cooze has been rather snippy towards me and today I couldn't take the bitch and her snide person anymore. She had me filing other people's work, sweeping and vacuuming the carpet in front of the reception desk, inputting everyone's reservations. All the while her and her cackling minions stood off to the side and discussed the latest Brad Pitt/Angelina Jolie gossip. I took a serious evaluation of the situation. I quit.

Unemployed once again, I found myself walking down past the Petco Baseball Stadium along the train tracks, gazing at the twilight skies and wondered if I really am crazy. Everyone at Vinnie's seems a little touched and God knows the things that I do are not exactly normal. Perhaps I should seek professional help...maybe medication is the cure I need for this violent and disrupted lifestyle. It seems the right thing to do.

Fuck that. I will continue to live my life the way I see fit. Without regrets and with passion!