And they wonder why we drink!
I just threw on my caftain, got Porky and walked to the package liquor. I go so often, I didn't know which block it was on and went too far before turning down to Central.
I have FINALLY learned the size bottle I wanted is a 1/2 pint!
Got me some bourbon. Drinking it straight, with iced tea as a chaser. So far, I've managed to sip just below the neck of the bottle. And you KNOW they don't fill 'em up to da cap!
Already have me a buzz. Feelin' a little fuzzy. Literally taking the edge off.
I see a reply from Ma in my "in" box. Screw it. I don't need any more today. His ass can just wait. I'm tempted to just discard the friggin' thing. Who needs it? It'll just be excuses for how they're so smart and I'm an irresponsible ding bat, anyway.
Re told me to my face she doesn't trust me with a KUNM microphone, in public.
Right in front of Ra and Ma.
Lovely. Just lovely.
So, since I can't torch the place, stab their tires, snatch them bald or just deck 'em, I'm getting drunk.
I mean it: I totally plan to finish the friggin' bottle, even though three, small sips have made me pie eyed.
Damn poor people: too lazy to work, always getting high, no wonder we never get anywhere! While everybody else is out, earning a living, they're at home, naked under the air conditioner, drinking whiskey!
Well, I'm sorry, but I can't afford all them fancy, designer antidepressants, extacy, meditation classes, therapists, air conditioned cars, credit cards...and all the rest of the CRAP you insulate YOURSELVES from reality with!
All I can afford is this here lil flask of Kentucky bourbon, iced tea from the garbage and my domesticated strays.
So, tell your guru, psychiatrist, auto mechanic, bill collector, or other false gods to get off MY back! I ain't part of their agendas.
I'm just a hillbilly, with an ugly dog and dirty finger nails, scratchin' out an existance amongst the turds, syringes and broken bottles.
I ain't got what it takes to look as tightly wrapped as you.
So, I'm gettin' drunk.
So I won't march my trash ass back over there and tell you what I REALLY think of yer ignorant, uppity selves.
So I won't shoot myself in the foot. So I won't hang from the end of my rope. So I won't cut off the limb I'm out on.
You think my poverty looks repulsive from the outside? Imagine what it's like here, inside my skin! And it don't go away; it's me, twenty four seven. It ain't me. It's what I have to endure. It's Abu Grhaib. It's My Lai. It's a taste of what Bombs over Baghdad REALLY do to a person!
You think I'm bad? You should see how mentally deranged Afghanis are, Salvadorans were, Palestinians are....
I'm just the appetizer.
See? EVERY TIME I get my damn hopes up, along comes THIS bull crap! Get in the BACK of the bus, trash! No dogs or bums allowed.
I'm a sane person in a completely dysfunctional world, that calls ME crazy, every chance they get.
Bull crap.
My people were NEVER ON the reservation! We KILLED masters to get free! We headed for the dang HILLS, and kept each other alive!
Now here I am, alone, no clan or family, ass hangin' in the wind.
The Navaho have a saying about people who don't fit in; they say, "she acts like she has no relatives."
That's me.
I'm giving Ma his damn ten dollars back. A gift shouldn't cost the giver. He doesn't own me for ten bucks.
Hell, I could earn twice that, giving some SUV driving yuppy a b.j. I don't need THIS for ten dollars!
And I could use protection!
I got screwed today without a rubber.
No comments:
Post a Comment