Knives and their Ability to Cut

Allow three days to heal before you attempt to reopen wounds. Let the blood bleed out and harden. Keep the scab visible and out in the open. If the cut happens to be located in an area that makes one blush, please by all means, adorn oneself with regular garb. Scissors or a box cutter will do. Remove an inch of cloth or two inches if need be. Just maintain innocence and keep the wound in sight. If kept hidden, the wound runs the risk of being forgotten and this will do irreversible damage. If the wound happens to be worse than the wounds prior, allow six to eight days to heal before you attempt to reopen. This will allow for maximum dramatic effect. Associates and acquaintances will view this wound and ask what happened. Assuming of course you have associates and acquaintances to share in your discomfort. If you do not, take an adequate number of photographs. I would advise against a cellphone camera, as the detail will not be as detailed as it could be. Print out copies, generally the size recommended is 8x11. Tell everyone you meet, strangers or customers (depending on your place of employment) what happened and who did this to you or how you did this to yourself. Negligence on whose end? Inform the person. Details are appreciated.

If a wound occurs on a spot previously known for wounds to occur, please without hesitation, move across the room. Stay away from the object that inflicted this wound. A distance of at least ten feet must be maintained at all times. I cannot or I will not stress this enough. Steel sharpens steel or something like that. This is an utter lie. The lie will be spoken from the object. They will say with complete confidence that their blade isn’t as sharp as it was before. Again, an utter lie. The blade will cut deep, if not deeper than you remember. The knife disregards your skin’s ability to be lacerated. Stay away from knives my friend. You do not need them. You do not need any of them. If a distance of at least ten feet cannot be maintained, you are damned. Relocate to another apartment.

this just made your day/week. youre welcome.

Birthday cake for me?

Really you shouldn't have adam. Please enjoy said adam. Again really you shouldn't have. But it is my pleasure. Oh, in that case. eat up. eat it all up. mmhmmm peanut butter frosting for the birthday boy!

I had the opportunity to make myself a free meal last night. Thanks to the lovely Christine, my great mother from the north, I was provided with the various components. Beef stew reminds me of my childhood. It's good. It's stick to the ribs good. Jennifer categorized it as 'so wisconsin.' I haven't made it since my sophomore year at UWM. I look forward to opening the fridge in the morning and viewing the leftovers. Because you know there's going to be a good inch of solidified lard resting on top. Beautiful.

i still have the scar.

Last time I was in Europe. I didn't think it was taped. At least now I have evidence.

Of course there will be tennis. And apparently RZA is from the matrix. This CD isn't impressing me.

You no longer sleep next to me. Same bed yes, but not next to me. There’s a void. Every night I sleep with a void. I spoon with an empty space. It’s a king sized bed and it demands my complete attention. The space fucking kills me. It’s wide and expansive. Very trench like. Cold and deep and desolate. Better men have perished in this void. It kills me, it really does. The quilt I keep at the headboard does nothing . It’s handmade with a drunkard’s path pattern. I stole it from my dead brother. This void will be the end of me.

merv shows me no love.

Brittany Murphy committed suicide or maybe she overdosed or perhaps it was malnourishment. Did you hear? Lee McQueen hung himself. Couldn't take the criticism. Or at least thats what the papers said. The papers, the fucking papers. When people talk about sex, naturally i lean towards violence. Violent men make interesting friends and terrible lovers. Violent lovers, thats what my friend says at least. She had a bruise for an eye and a mouth that got her in trouble. Good body though. I told her the physical beatings did her good. Gave her character. I told her she needs to wear that black and blue around more often. The color suits you i told her. She told me to choke myself when I masturbate. Its been years I said, but I'll give it a try next time. I lied either on the first or last statement. I find that privacy is a thing of the past, but one that shouldn't be forgotten. Its a hell of a thing.

walk to the office

saw an old man building three very fine snowmen.

saw an old man struggling with a walker through the snow.

I want to grow old but in a way where I don't struggle with a walker.

I want to grow old but not get old.

coffee bitches

If I drink coffee twice a day I feel like I have done something worthwhile. Cream and sugar, even though I don't like the sweet. Allow the day to start, let the sun rise. I brew a pot prior to my shower. Feed the dog then wash away the sins I accumulated throughout the night. Drugs and dirty girls. Then, honey toast and Folgers. A large cup is preferred even though I hesitate to drink it's entirety. I hesitate to drink it's entirety because my bladder is tiny and ornery. The smallest liquid will set it off. It becomes combative. It understands why Im reluctant when consuming my morning cup of coffee.

Every few days I'll grab my usual at Dunkin. This is in addition to the one I drink at home. I pay for the medium and give the girl dirty looks. She hates me and I hate that she hates me. I compliment her braids and she spits in my face. I am secretly in love with her. Not really though. Or Im secretly in love only on the days she chews wrigley. Spearmint drips from my cheek.

If I consume enough coffee I begin to hate the way it tastes. I am a creature of comfort and habit and pleasure. I dislike the way New Wave coffee feels, the flavor that is recognized, the way it embraces my tongue like a hot towel full of dog shit. I like the idea of New Wave, but I have never finished one full cup of their motor oil.

I've taken a giant leap in personal accomplishments this week. I will pat myself on the back, please do not get up. As happy as I should be, Im still utterly depressed. Rent was paid and I now have 2 dollars in my account. Celebrate? Celebrate what?

'Wow. Adam please settle down.'

'Settle down? But you have no idea.'

'Yes I do. Trials and tribulations happen to everyone.'

'But what about poor choices?'

'Yes, those too. Bad decisions and poor choices are part of life. Thats how you learn.'

'Okay. Well what happens if I know Im right, but people don't agree with me.'

'You're not always right.'

'What about when I know I'm right and people are just being thick?'

'But you're not always right.'

'Listen to me. What happens when I KNOW IM RIGHT?'

'Why are you being difficult? You might think you're right, but you aren't. Everyone is entitled to their opinion and perhaps they think they're right too. Get it?'

'No.'

'Well what don't you get?'

'Forget it.'

'So you're just going to mope around?'

'Maybe.'

'Thats childish.'

'I don't give a fuck if it's childish.'

'You're just trying to get people to feel sorry for you.'

'so...'

'So thats childish. Quit being a brat.'

'Fuck you.'

'There you go again. Good, bravo Adam.'

'I'll do what I want.'

'Fine, but don't complain about it. Drink your whiskey.'

'I will.'

'Because you take shelter in alcohol. You're a drunk Adam.'

'No Im not.'

'Look at you. Thats a full glass you just poured.'

'So what. I'm thirsty.'

'And you've gotten drunk every night this week.'

'Why do you care?'

'You've got work in the morning. You're going to be hungover.'

'No I wont. I'll take some Advil before.'

'Before what? Before you pass out?'

'Why do you even care? Why do you care what I do?'

'You're my friend.'

'I am not you're friend.'

'No?'

'Nope, I despise you.'

'But we're the same.'

'You're nothing like me.'

'I'm exactly like you.'

'Fuck off Adam.'

Ned's eyes have fallen out. Lasers!?!?!

I cannot fully believe that it is healthy for an individual such as myself to work and play and live and eat and drink in front of a small 11'' illuminated screen. My eyes are jelly. My feet are impatient and anxious. My stomach churns because I can only figure out certain specifics in short bursts. Here is a picture I came across today. Shaved chocolate from an old Polish man I met on the beach. He was lonely and completely interesting.

Tuesdays are known for their highs.

Drunk on svedka and cranberry y'all. Like a farm kid on tobacco, Im spitting mad. The dare was given, you can't take it back. Im done with the bullshit, Im better off without the harassment. Don't call me names, don't pat my shoulder and rub my ass. I may have believed the shit before, but today is Tuesday and Im smarter than I was on Monday. Merv told me so. So i spill coffee on my keyboard, so I have bad hair. The littlest of lies hurt far more than any negative trait I may possess.

It is Tuesday and Tuesdays have such highs and equally as exciting lows. This is known. Merv told me so. Although I suspect he was probably just hitting his low at that point. I love drama. Call me a faggot, but please try harder. I know you can do better.

When something exciting happens or an event takes place that could influence the near future, I would like to think my good friends would be around to help me celebrate. Nope, social security and extracurriculars call their name.

didn't you read what I wrote? I've been faking it all along. Settle down and don't get ahead of yourself. thank you.

The last time I attended the Monday night mecca that is 'Rehab' was my first weekend in Chicago. That was August 2009. It was memorable. Lots of PBR, new friends, multiple sets of tortoise shell glasses, and deep V's were abundant. It was still held at Evil Olive (get it? how clever) and I was with my good friend JK. Beers were just $1 and oh, I got a hj on the dance floor. Thats right. It was discrete, but definitely skin on skin. I believe Rick Astley was playing. Im not proud of it, but I was a bit tipsy and the girl had a blonde rats nest for a hairdo with lots of ink covering her arms. Don't worry, I didn't allow it to get messy. Just you know, one more thing to cross off my bucket list.

Well guess what? Im drunk, it's 2 in the morning, and I just left my second trip to 'Rehab'. Thanks Jeana for taking me out and showing me a good time. It's held at Debonair now and PBR was bumped up from 1 to $2. Other than that, the music still sucks, it's still crowded and kids with too many accessories are abundant. Sticking together, insecure and what not, clinging to their shared vodka sodas. Underage girls! You are all wearing the same black leather jacket! All five of you! Oh man, did that boy just look at you? giggle giggle har har.

Things experienced tonight with Mean Jean:

1. A kid with an A symmetrical haircut recognizes a girl he knows.

'Oh my God, how are you?' He says with such enthusiasm.

'I just got a boob job!' She is smiling ear to ear.

Lots of hugging and touching and groping and hilarity ensues.

2. A little person jumping and dodging and cutting through the crowd.

AND? He was dressed as a fucking Oompa Loompa. What? yes. I will laugh at you

and I will point at you and I will draw attention to you because you dressed as a fucking Oompa Loompa.

3. A girl I would have found attractive if she weighed half as much as she did. Or I would might have found her attractive if she had a good personality or didn't wear clothes that were busting at the seams.

4. The guy with the mohawk dancing on the table next to us. I'm guessing the table was sturdy cuz you looked like Adam Richman with a Chicago flag tattoo gracing your left arm. Man v Food v Gravity.

Regardless, Jeana and I had fun. Fist pumps and all that crap. No 8th grade sexual acts were encountered this time around. I had new jeans on anyways (super tight, would have hurt). The slutty chick from my first trip will always be in my thoughts. Even though I saw her making out with another guy on the way out. Heart crushed.

Never going to give you up.

Never going to let you down my ass.

security deposit

I approach the car and wait for the old man to part the window. Through the glass I meet his eyes. They are wet and overcrowded, more so than usual. He motions towards the passenger side and I make my way around. Gone is the costly flatbed he used to meet me in. A reluctant Toyota has taken it’s place. It carries the old Mexican and his problems around. The sedan sags and it’s body is heavily salted from the Chicago winter. Im uneasy as I open the door. I wonder if he has my money. To be kind I ask him his state.

Not so good he tells me. ‘Things are just fucking crazy lately.’

His accent is thick and his breath makes my eyes water. A very distinct filet o fish. I’m uncomfortable. The stench and the situation. Both are making me uneasy. This is too informal. Usually the check is slipped through the window. I was careful when I shut the door. It is left slightly ajar for quick escape. It is left slightly ajar for fresh air.

He tells me the economy has really hurt him. He tells me his properties are fucked, that he had to sell his truck. Nobody is renting he says. Twenty five years he’s worked for himself. Now he is forced to go find work. It’s not so bad he says, mostly just physical labor. The old mexican asks what will happen if his body can’t keep up.

I want to tell him it’s his own damn fault. He could have listened to the warnings and planned accordingly. I don’t care if his body fails him. If his rickety ass keels over so be it. Instead I bite my tongue and I stare jealously at a couple crossing the street. They’re young and hip and beautiful. The two break pace to beat the light.

The economy has effected everyone, including myself I explain. ‘Thats why I’m being persistent.’

‘But what I owe you is fucking nothing compared to what I owe them.’

‘I understand this.’

‘You know how much I owe a month to these fucking guys? Twenty five thousand dollars.’

‘I mean, that’s horrible and everything.’

‘Five years ago, five years ago I was fine. I had money in the bank. Making payments. Everything was great. But man, man I would have never thought.’

‘You should have never spent the money. It’s been six months since I moved out and I’ve been plenty patient. Was I not a good tenant?’

‘You were and you’re a good kid. Thats why I feel terrible.’

Fast food wrappers and soda cans riddle the floorboards. The interior is cleaner than the exterior, but it's a tight race. It’s cluttered from back to front. Trash fills every available crevice.

Commercial or residential, it doesn’t matter. Nobody is renting anything he says. He tells me him and his wife will be out on the street soon. That the economy has forced him to do some terrible things.

I place my hand on the door and wonder what he means. Terrible things? I bet he killed someone. At the least he knifed some poor bastard. Should I leave now? Just get out of the car and forget the money. At what speed can I still exit the vehicle safely? I don’t have health insurance. Tuck and roll is always an option. I really don’t want to tear this coat though.

‘Listen, Im going to write you this check for 200. It’s not the full amount. I know I owe you more, but believe me when I say I cant pay you everything. Maybe six months. I don’t know. I got all these people. All these people calling me. Twenty fucking years I’ve owned my house and now it’s being foreclosed on. Twenty fucking years. I owe money everywhere. My phone rings and its someone looking for money. Believe me when I say I lay in bed thinking about this. Awake all fucking night, thinking about what happened, what went wrong. I’m a good guy. I’m honest. I don’t fucking cheat nobody, but now I have no choice. Maybe six months, maybe summer comes around, you give me a call and see how things are. God I hope they are better. Here, here’s a check for 200 dollars. I’m sorry my friend. I’ve dated it for the nineteenth. Now thats one, two, three, three weeks from tomorrow. I’m sorry. What you do is you call me up in the morning. The morning of the nineteenth and you say, ‘Candido, can I cash the check?’ Then I will deposit 200 dollars into my account that afternoon. Then what you do is go to the bank. Make sure it’s my bank and withdraw it for cash. It has to be the morning after. Otherwise I don’t if the money will be there. I got checks all over the place. If you wait longer, who knows? It might be gone. I left your name blank because I forget how to spell your last name. I’m sorry.’