April 2nd, 2015

2013, cyd, new

Sick of it all, and at long last, defeated

I got through half of the phone interview with the Welfare people when we hit a snag. They needed a certificate of completion from rehab. I don't think I completed it. I remember they put me on haldol and it Seriously interfered with my participation in NA and group. I told the woman that, and she told me she had to talk to her boss, and would call me back. While waiting for her, I took a chance and found a "rehab" tag in here and found out that I went in 2008, and I put 2011 on my application. So I may be outside the statute of limitations on that. I also need to have her amend the back medical charges. Doc informed me that we don't have any for the three months that are eligible outside of prescription costs and those don't count. I'm just waiting for her to call back.

So far, the people I've talked to have been super nice. I was expecting this to be a really ugly process, and it really hasn't been so far. They are considering Doc's income into things, so I will likely not get any SNAP help, which sucks. We could really use the extra food money. The medicaid is a no-brainer. I'll get that without problem because I'm on medicare and SSI.

Andrea Bocelli . . .

They just called back. My first paragraph is moot. So is the second, well, the second is just wrong. Doc makes too much money to qualify for either food or medical assistance. I want to kill something. No, really. I want to kill something.
2013, cyd, new

What's it called when you feel completely beat down?

When you feel naked and isolated and bruised and bleeding in the wet and oily street, your face in a pothole in the glaring light of the desert sun, what's that called?

Yeah, I'm that.

I'm just so over done.

I actually went on a ride in the big-ass truck to the pharmacy drive through to get my Seroquel with Doc. I used the 'good luck charm' excuse. Apparently I am good luck, and have been since childhood. People don't get tickets when I'm in the car unless they are monumentally stupid. But regardless of color, creed or age, if I'm riding shotgun, karma seems to be on your side. So, I'm the good luck charm. What I really wanted to do was overwhelm my brain with external stimuli to drown out the internal stimuli that I couldn't handle.

When I came home I tried to milk that high by doing the cigarette stuffing in a different part of the living room so the lighting and periphery were different. But it didn't work. Now it has coalesced into a burning desire to take Chewy for a walk. At 9 at night. During spring break, so it's like Carnivale out there. Only armed with a dagger, and a jumpy small dog. With no one at home to call. I know I have to stay home. I know that is what Kelli would tell me if I could call her.

We had this weird thing on the way home from the pharmacy. This guy on a BMX bike in a Fedora was coming at us and as we passed him, he waved and really enthusiastically gave us the thumbs up and smiled and was very friendly. I smiled at him a little, but was mostly confused. I asked Doc who he was, and he said "nobody." It's the banner thing we have at the top of the windshield. It says something very local and very distinct, to those who know it. It has something to do with the Family. Ok. We're great big poseurs. Whatever. It got me to my meds. That's all I really care about.

So, tomorrow is Friday. Two whole days and nights of Doc and I stranded here together with our allergies. Which are bad. The cats are shedding their winter coats. The outside cats are rolling in the pollen bunches that are falling off the trees and then coming in and rolling all over the furniture. I vacuum each night. The winds are high, so it is really dusty, blowing everywhere. Even through our security screens. It will only last through the weekend. Spring and fall are like this. I'm used to it by now.

Doc made mention of S moving in. This took me by surprise. I can't think of anything wrong with it. S and I have been through a lot together. And he wouldn't fuck with me. Even long long ago when he was all tweaked out, he never fucked with me. He was always nice and always brought me presents from his dumpster diving. Wow, that was a long time ago. That was a whole other time. It would help offset the rent and utilities.

Okay, I'm going to go out and have a smoke and then watch "Going Clear". I need to get into something to make me stay at home. Because I just know . . .

Chewy has his head buried under my pillow to block out the light. He's such a pussy.