Thursday, March 17, 2005

every breath is a treasure

I think my foot is broken. One of the tiny little bones—some hairline fracture that will prevent me from exercising. I will turn into a disgusting fat fuck.

My car is broken. On Christmas day at the Long Beach airport I had to call and get a jump after parking it for a week—the Neo-Nazi troglodyte working the tow truck that day fucking hooked up the jumper cables backwards and killed my electrical system. I didnt know it at the time—he said m’boss says he does it all the time if ya call triple A ah’ll lose m’job shouldn’t be any damage, listen lemme know if it don’t start t’morrah ah’ll buy you a new batt’ry m’self… and since it was fucking Christmas I didn’t rat him out. Now, months later I have had to replace my battery once and alternator twice at ass-reamingly huge expense because I didn’t call triple A and thus the lurking damage that metastasized to kill my whole goddamn car can’t be proven to be their fault. I remember he had some weird midget with him like the one that used to hang out with Kid Rock… a bald wrinkly little fucker who looked prematurely old like he had Methuselah Syndrome.

My best friend’s car is also broken. While her boyfriend was kind enough to fix my car she lent me hers in a truly selfless gesture and while I was driving home on a rain-slick road these two Armenian chicks pulled out across two lanes of oncoming traffic without looking and I t-boned them. She’s been in many accidents herself and was afraid of getting fucked on her insurance; I was agitated and adrenalized by the crash and the resultant fight we got in became so horrible that while we were screaming at each other out on the fire escape I thought about jumping off and slamming into the sidewalk four floors below just to end it right then. I almost fucking did it.

A bird shat on me. The worst part was how warm it was. I have not had sex with someone whom I didn’t have to pay in over six months. My rent got jacked up. I am twenty-nine years old and I work as somebody’s assistant earning ten dollars per hour. I have a small penis and a huge, broken nose. My neighbor who is one of my only friends in town is moving out. I have conjunctivitis. Also the flu, I think. I started exercising more in order to get “ripped” but my weight has stayed the same only now if I don’t exercise I can’t sleep.

Ah, Jesus…

3 Comments:

Blogger iris of the dead said...

You make beautiful lists.
You make deterioration sound romantic.
won't you write more? it's such a thrill.
you should take your favorite book and revise it.
kind regards.

10:24 PM  
Blogger iris of the dead said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

11:06 AM  
Blogger vulkoqq said...

thank you. your comment was very meaningful to me and made me feel good. I can't write more, though, because writing for me is like holding my head underwater... it's hideously painful and the whole time I'm thinking "when can I stop? when can I stop?"

3:10 AM  

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