There is a round headed, younger guy there. round all over. Pudgy and obnoxious. Says his name is gallon, like the jug. He has a big wallet chain and gangster style, with a baseball cap that says GOAT. Tuesday night I drive in the freezing cold to the radio station and everyone is glad to see me . surprising. I belong there.

On the ship, there is something wrong with the food. One group gets this, another gets that. Lois leaves. I have no idea. At the beach, our section is blocked by two wires. I walk alongside the wires until I get to the other section. Huge waves crest and crash over a coral wall. People are swimming in that. On the ship, all hell is breaking loose.

I work late at the restaurant and can’t find a machine to punch out my timecard. Wandering the hallways of the giant school. Teachers line up tiny children in wooden chairs. They glare at me as I walk through. They don’t take any breaks. They are welded to the caregiving function. Out in the quad of Cornell ornate stone buildings and a plaza that goes down to the lake.

Is this good thinking? The b names aren’t working out. I should go with Dave the Original. Is this a good idea? my head! I mouth the words of a prayer. on tv the guy was on his stomach and had been tased by multiple cops, all the while chanting the serenity prayer. I have never heard it said in that context before.

Today I met bill at the ugly Dunkin. At 1:00 in the afternoon, past the time other bill would be there. So. Fine. Just fine. Bill is doing good—appetite good, no ill effects from what he’s taking. Glasses girl was there. Actually she ain’t no girl. Wattle effect I have one too, so there you have it. I watched her blowing smoke  in the frigid parking lot, her mouth in a twist.

in the race for my life. Katy. “You did this to me many years ago,” she says. “I’m sorry.” She puts me in the Mexican deconstruction chamber to pay for my sins. I emerge, sucked dry and a monster. “Look,” says the man, “here is a tube. We plug it into our necks. We become revitalized.” I must keep running, katy on my tail.

I’m in a hotel room where I live with my strict father. On the wall is a door, made of a piece of plywood nailed on. there’s a tiny gap and I can see the Indian man and his thatch of black hair as he sings and drums. I can just see the top of his head but the music is beautiful.

My Justin cowboy boot is coming apart. This is a problem. I get a curved upholstery needle and some embroidery thread on it. Sit there and try to jam it thru the leather. Nope. I can’t see trying to fix this myself. I’ll totally wreck it. So. Go on my phone: “shoe repair near me”. Mid-city shoe repair in Cortland.

In the giant city the entrance to the building. I go in. Mobs in the pulsating mall of consumption. jostled by crowds I am carried past a pizza place. “I have a check for $12. Do you take a check?” “No.” jostled away where is the exit to the street? I just want to get to where the cats are taken care of.

The water buffalo grabs the gear, pedals with its teeth. “leave it alone.” “no. it has to pay.” “what’s wrong with you, O’Reilly? Are you just that sad?” the baby hippo. The buffalo. They’re just sad. “Stone them to death.” the men drink whiskey and hurl the rocks. I am his boy. We live in a seven-story house. All the rooms are brown-paneled.

We live in the open-air trailer park that goes down to the lake. I get a job at the Mexican place and put the peppers on the stove. Lois has a fit and we discuss. Fear of abandonment. I will not abandon you. This is not the same. My fingers grow nails of pencil lead. They are square like a flat pencil when you sharpen it with a knife.

Heartache and despondency at the grocery store of the middle east bazaar. I sit on the conveyor belt the women don’t notice me I am dead. I walk into the covered parking lot. A man with lobsters in a cooler. “how much is a lobster?” “$535.” “Oh. Ok.” Movin’ on. Men in black yarmulkes behind the grills of a tiny restaurant.

Are these my clothes? Yes. Wear layers. See my parents. Under the truck in the shed he pushes the vehicle with the other guy I see his mule feet in flip- flops I just want to run the streets. Not be here squeezing thru this small hole in the wall, married to jeff. Did you see the sun come out?

The top of the building is ugly. It is orange with awnings or some shit. It is Dunkin. I go there today, to meet bill. My friend. Not the other asshole. I go on Saturday at 2pm because even if donut man is intent on being a company guy, I think it is highly unlikely that he’ll be there on 2pm on a Saturday.

A cold morning at the church the guy is standing in front of the stairs, dragging deep on a cigarette and squinting at me. He has red hair, red facial hair.  Blue eyes I’m sure. I’ve seen him at the coffee pot before. He gets coffee and leaves right away. He is a hard case. He is homeless. I give him a slow wave and go down the scary stairs.

It's been a tough week, I’m not gonna lie. In mourning for McDonald Man, time to make the donuts with my little woman oh my god and then I was ghosted by Brian. Seriously. Like, no explanation, just no response to anything. Not to mention melissa. We won’t go there. All on my own, floating in the endless expanse of deep space with no cord attached, slowly spinning in the death zone.

Went to a few meetings after this last thing. What is miraculous is that I went last night and by this morning, when I went to another, I was like: what did I do Thursday? Like: who? Like: who even cares? I really don’t. That is beyond what is humanly possible. There is one who has all power. That one is God.

You don’t have to do this ever again. Enter: the charnel house of my dream. The sideways snow. The cancer drug. glasses girl. The man who rubs my face in shit. The crew in reflective garments. Three weeks to become assistant manager He asks for his woman: Glasses girl. He is ambitious for her. Queasy at the sight of fish in cans.

I talk to my friend bill. I purposely do NOT look at the pass. The needle, the spoon. I turn my back on it. My curly fuckin back of my head hey get a good look at that, motherfucker. My friend is u…

I talk to my friend bill. I purposely do NOT look at the pass. The needle, the spoon. I turn my back on it. My curly fuckin back of my head hey get a good look at that, motherfucker. My friend is up against it. I talk to him. At one point the guy walks past me to the bathroom, all black t-shirt and circumspect.

Ask the 8ball. One day one thing. Another day another. He walks out the door. glides, right to left, in his blue jacket. Bagged out levis darks. past the big windows over to kinneys. He comes back in the other direction past the same windows. At the last second shoots a furious laser glance right at me. keeps moving. I have no idea. Except he had his hands on her, and that did not thrill me. No not at all but hey. That’s life.