In five days I will be leaving the gulag and moving into my one bedroom apartment. What a strange and wonderful joy I feel and also a terror that is beyond anything that I have ever felt in my life. The joy is obvious. The terror is that I will not make it out of here in the next five days. Not that they will keep me but instead that I will die, or become terribly sick again and not be able to leave which for me would be death.
My roommate has become depressed over me leaving because as he puts it, “You were the best roommate I ever had and I won't be lucky enough to get another cool roommate. I'll get a jerk instead.”
Well I'm guessing you won't get a roommate that put up with what I have put up with. I was patient for one reason. I never believed that I would stay here forever. My roommate says, “I'll talk to mommy about coming home” and we both know he will be here for the rest of his life or in another facility. Hell I was here two months longer than I should have been.
As the days count themselves down I wish I could say that there will be fond memories of this place but that is just not the case. The only really good memories will be when my daughter and grandson showed up or when my brother and his boys showed up. The rest of the experience has been one long day that never seemed to end, but hey, it's about to end.
I am about to move in to my own apartment and live a free life.
No more smells from a dirty roommate, or television blaring or him screaming out, “Jesus” “Pussy!!”
No more incompetent nurses arguing with me over how they won't do their jobs and no more wondering for three to four hours who my aid is and if he or she is ever going to show the fuck up and when they finally do show up it's my fault that they took so long.
No more of the little man waking me up at midnight with, “Do you want some ice Mr. Cheeseman, Mr. Cheeseman do you want some ice?”
I am sound the fuck asleep. The last thing I am thinking about is a cup of fucking ice. Now that is all I am thinking about.
I am becoming a free man as we begin to blow the shit out of ISIS and any civilians that might get in the way. It's a grand and mystical world.
Of course we ran into a snag. Apparently I have a twenty year old gas bill that I forgot that is over a thousand dollars.
Here's the really mystical thing that keep happening. This obstacle has presented itself and out of nowhere there is a solution presented. In this case it's a mental health goodie that will help me financially so the gas bill will be getting paid and I will be moving out as planned only about week late.
I keep saying, “Well this is the last karmic thing in my life. This is the last thing of the past that I will have to pay karma on” and the truth is that karma is never over. Karma never sleeps. Karma is always there.
I let this bill get to this unbelievable amount when living in Plain City the last time when I had a nervous breakdown and just let everything go to hell in a hand basket. I let the apartment go to hell that I was living in and let the bills all pile up. It was in the beginning of my stay in Plain City one of the better times in my life and when it ended it was one of the worst.
Who knew that you could get financial aid for being crazy and crippled from two completely different organizations. Hell I have been crazy for a long time. I should get back pay for being crazy. I should shut the fuck up and be grateful for these things being there for fuck ups like me.
In the room next to me is a little fat disgusting man who has strangly hair down his back and is balding on the top. He always has a nicotine stick in his mouth and wheels his fat half naked body around with absolutely no shame. This man also bitches non absolutely fucking stop. It has opened my eyes to what it sounds like to hear this bitching and complaining going on non stop. It's devastatingly painful to endure.
My brother Jacob was always telling me that all I did was bitch and complain. I hope I have learned from this lesson also.
This is in-between everything else. I know, I know, it's all so confusing, and yes it is confusing. It was meant to be that way. If it all made sense there would be nothing to look for.
The world is at a standstill. It doesn't matter what is going on outside of here. All I can see in my minds eye is my apartment and me meandering around living life, writing, painting, singing, playing my guitar and playing with my daughter and grandson in the empty lot across from me.
I have plants everywhere and a small dog.
I have freedom and choice.
I am almost there.
So it's like three seventeen in the morning and I am drinking coffee and writing away. The last thing on my mind is sleep as the lounge secret agent music plays away from my computer.
I started singing this to a bluesy kind of tone as I wheeled around the facility at three seventeen in the morning.
I can hear you calling, calling.
Calling out my name.
I can hear you calling, calling.
Calling out my name.
I'm not ready to go.
I just want to stay.
I can hear you
calling out my name.
I've got to many voices ready to say.
I've got to many places still to play.
I can hear you calling out my name.
I can hear you calling, calling.
Calling out my name.
I can hear you calling, calling.
Calling out my name.
I'm not ready to go.
I just want to stay.
I can hear you
calling out my name.
I've not loved enough friend.
I've not lived enough friend.
I can hear you calling out my name.
I've not learned all there is.
I've not heard all the music.
And I can hear you calling out my name.
I can hear you calling, calling.
Calling out my name.
I can hear you calling, calling.
Calling out my name.
I'm not ready to go.
I just want to stay.
I can hear you
calling out my name.
I can smell the color blue.
I can see the sound of an A.
I can hear you calling out my name.
I can feel myself floating through the clouds.
Everything is white and blue.
I can see the earth below.
I don't know what to do.
I can hear you calling out my name.
And in front of me is an angel
With a microphone in her hand.
She tells me to sing a mean tune kid.
I can still hear you calling out my name.
I'm not listening anymore.
We are going to war with half the rest of the world and the top story is about how fucked up sports is. I am slowly feeling myself giving up on the human race. Or at least on Huffington Post.
I can't read CNN anymore and haven't for a while. It's all just trash.
I have nothing more to say.
It's been a hell of a day.
I can hear you calling my name.
cool peace
hippy mike
love
spirit
cool uber super groovy cool.