Tuesday, January 08, 2008

"So?"
"So."
"What's the diagnosis?" I sat in the stuffy office of the mental health clinic. The smell of chloride and mildew.
Dr. Pap leaned back in his chair - creaking loudly. He pressed his fingers together and looked at the ceiling. Eyes boinging around his skull like loose marbles. Drawing it out for dramatic effect, I reckon.
"Manic depressive with schizoid tendencies." His face as calm and remote as a card dealers. "Bi-Polar."
I pursed my lips, "I see." Damn, I thought, I must be a real loon. But the life I lead? Well, you can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs, right?
The next course of action, lit a cigarette tromped down to the Social Security office to get my SSI benefit papers. Long waits in shadows of coughs and soft mutterings of tramps and schizophrenics. Obese black woman babbling about her urinary tract. I sat there waiting for my name to be called and I smiled, yeah - it was bound to come to this someday.
I get the form and cut. Walking down 5th street I bumped into an old friend, Rafael and after what ever happened to so and so and Rafael was really up on knowing what ever happened to so and so I offered him to a pitcher of beer at Chee- Chee's. Entered that dark din on Broadway, fetid old transvestite propped up on a stool - garish in the glow of neon, looked like a predatory bird. Rafi and I talked and played music in the jukebox. It was mid afternoon and the joint was a mausoleum.
"Let's get outta here - how bout Balboa Park?" I said looking at my empty glass.
Stopped at the 7-11 for Cokes and added vodka to them before zipping up to the Park. Walking through the arboreal tranquility with an alcohol buzz, Rafael split on account of a booty call so I was left to my own devices in that massive park.
Decided to cruise the filthy public restroom and tall skinny Mexican offered his erection for my inspection. Did my crime and in that stall he came to some sort of climax. I cut and followed the jogger's trail and was propositioned by Anglo marine and I sucked his big and nasty in the hidden brush of the trees. Next up was a cute Philippine jogger - "Hey."
"Whatcha looking for?"
I grab him and pull him close, "Looking for that dick, man - I want to suck it."
He smiles, "Wow you are so bold. You're crazy." I glare at him and chuckle, obviously.
Pecks on the cheek, ear nibbled, pull out his brown erection back in the brush and he moans and squeals because I give it to him like a champ.
The sun goes down over the trees in a blast of orange and yellow fury and in the lingering chilled shadows I walk the line to the crazy part, the sleazy part, the Hot Spot. The place is a god damn fag feeding frenzy! Nameless cocks are offered and some taken some denied. The night crawlers do their stylized silent ballet in the never ending quest for that perfect cock. Get my share, I reckon. My jaw gets tired so I return to downtown, and I think. Think long and hard. What an uncertain future I have...what to do? What indeed. I guess I will calmly go through the motions and get this SSI shit...then again, maybe not.

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