Yes, I've Been in a Spot of Trouble.

I've been in trouble from the very first day. So he calls my mother in and they agree to have me removed to a seemingly neutral domicile. Before removal is complete I cling to this or that piece of furniture and practice my sub-vocal tones while they consult the manual. That—on page five—is where it says that ones like me could get mildly ornery if steps aren't taken. They've asked around town for the best expert but it turns out that he's on sabbatical and won't return any time soon. Improvisation is the order of the day.

So, on the third try I'm hinched up near the ceiling where a small opening awaits for whatever specimen I might be able to produce. Some folks in the other room are preoccupied with the State Championships. I think I recognize one of their voices but when I ask about it I'm told that people of his type would never have been allowed to be within a line of sight. Even if I weren't blind, this would come as quite a blow. So I decide to resign effective Sunday at noon. Once I assemble a team of trailing experts, we can see if anything is stuck in a way that might encourage denialism. That's a raw deal. Makes my head whip around. Gosh.

In the small of the night my benchable flask is returned to me just in time to learn to appreciate a new type of smell. We engage with some leftover freedom fighters and I transfer an old sheaf of documents which makes me look good (if anyone takes the time to reconsider). There's a countdown near the Lake and it looks as if I've been poisoned. It's not too bad, though. I mean, I can still breathe, albeit with a modicum of difficulty. The hair that I've brought with me from camp gives me a new found confidence. There's a youngish sample person just to my right who says her name is Brenda. I believe she was the one who touched me about an hour ago. There's a mark where her ring snapped. I find that I could go on about this throughout the night. For now, though, I'm still tripping pretty intensely. Some of them are delicately breaded. The others remind me that I'm no longer deceased. It's kind of a relief, to be honest. The grading in this place is designed to shock. Mission accomplished, you fuckers!

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Note to readers (HA!): It's been determined with a fair degree

of certitude that this blog has as readership of approximately

ZERO! Therefore, if you should find yourself reading this, or

anything else on this blog, or even viewing images or listening

to audio,.. what might this mean? It means, friend, that for all

intents and purposes, YOU DO NOT EXIST!  But hey, look

at it like this: I've saved you untold years of intensive meditation

practice to reach the very same conclusion, i.e, that you don't exist.

You're very welcome!

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