SuprstinGscroogville's Journal: 080415 (ticks)

The guy across from me has a facial tick--that is to say that, since I sat down, he can't seem to help but keep picking at his face, wiping his face, caressing his chin, fiddling with his ear or lip, or whatever. That's almost as irritating as the people who sit in the computer lab and talk to their e-mail--sure, everyone does this at home, and some people do it at work in their own private cubes, but if you hang out in a coffee shop, tea parlor, salon, or wireless network hotspot you'll quickly find that people who have such psycho ticks end up being pushed out by those of us who have managed to quell those little neurological infirmities. Most kids develop them as they grow up: they pick them up from their 4dult family members, teachers, or other 4dults that they come in contact with. Most ad0lescents exhibit them and, by the time they've developed into young 4dulthood, they're usually laden with them. It's a constant self-improvement from young 4dulthood through to full 4dulthood to be aware of oneself and recondition the mind and body to be free of the ticks and infirmities. Those who fail at this task develop neurological diseases, addictions, or end up physically disabled by various acc1dents (automobile, home, work, whatever). The guy across from me looks to be about 45. He's seriously lacking in the self-control and self-improvement area. Of course there's the other possibility. 4dults who are embittered, arrogant, h4teful, spiteful, vengeful (etc. etc. etc.) tend to deliberately try to pass on such behavioral/neurological ticks.

Someone in here smells like bad vodka. It's probably the younger guy, the 25-to-30 year old La Jollan that's been sitting with Ron for the last month. After mass this morning I found enough money to buy a new package of sunflower kernels--I've been empty for near a week (and the skilly'n'duff just really isn't worth it without the sunflower kernels... they add fibre, there's something about sunflower which works better than peanuts, almonds, or cashews, and I really like cashews... they have their own unique sunflower oil... and they add a little bit of salt which helps the curry and cayenne powders to dissolve and soak into the noodles). Armed with these funds I walked to the country market to purchase the sunflower kernels and saw this younger guy picking up Jool's cart (which was empty). I soon found out that Jool and Bus Stop Texas Ron had been hanging out drinking and, for some reason or other, the police arrived and took Jool off. If you ask me they should've taken Ron, too, but I have a good notion that Ron is part of their "in" circle... and this younger fella (who has been helping to ensure that Ron stays imbalanced, as I've recently heard that Ron has once again become the proud owner of visible poo stains all over his pants... something that I never let happen when I sat with Ron) probably is as well. What I do know is that there's no shortage of mar*juana for that younger fella. He'll practically hand it out like candy to the dirty drunks who whizz, poo, vomit, throw trash, spill beer, stain sidewalks, leave dirty clothes, etc. everywhere... but for some reason he'll go out of his way to act like I don't even exist. I can only imagine that his behavior is a result of some set of lies and defamations that the likes of Ron and Little Bitty Bob have probably spread about me.

Oh yes. Little Bitty Bob lives in a gated community around here someplace. I've suspected from the very beginning that everyone I meet on the street, supposedly also homeless, are in reality just wealthy trust-fund (or some other source of independent wealth) recipients who simply have nothing better to do with their time than hang out on the street and pretend to be homeless. In this fashion they also divert attention from me... as they probably tell everyone else that they meet,"Oh? That guy? Yeah, he's not really homeless--or at least he doesn't have to be. He gets a check, he has money in the bank, he could have a home, he just likes to walk around and look like a j0ke." I'm about 98.583% positive that's the running story in this area for anyone who asks about the guy with the three bags and a duffel on the umbrella.

The joke's on you, nin-come-poops. I've suspected the diversionary play since before I arrived here. I'd seen it in Whitehorse, Yukon, CA when I was there for a quarter. The folks in Whitehorse didn't have the resources to play it as well but it was also a smaller and more remote town so a greater percentage of the daily people were in on the ploy from the start. I'm playing along, biding my time, waiting for that one golden opportunity--and there's always one--to make this hurt as much, for as long, as I possibly can. I know that it's the oldest game in the book--play someone for an idiot and then kick them out (or fire them, or set them up to have the police take them off and throw them in jail, or drive them to depression and su1cide, etc.). I learned that game from my own family, for pete's sake--don't even think for a moment that I haven't been watching this entire village with a shrewd jeweler's loop the entire time that I've been here. I play that game for fun because I have no funds available to do anything else with my time. I know for a fact that the target always gets at least one golden opportunity to blow the whole shebang open. Sometimes they get more than one. Sometimes, if they know how to work it, they can skip the first one to bait the players, draw them in deeper, and then use a triple-barbed hook to ensure that nobody gets away free and clear.

I aim to skewer this entire village, maybe this entire county, possibly this entire state, and preferably this entire nation, with an umbrella laden with seventy-times-seventy-seven septuple barbed hooks. You will tear yourselves to shreds trying to get away from me. :-)

I do not get a check. I do not have any funds available. I am not given any opportunities. I do have experience in professional environments. I do have marketable professional skills. Nobody will hire me, either in my field of work or out of it. The only "work" which I've been made aware of is from dirty, lower class scum who think they'll get away hiring homeless people for labor at a tenth of the cost that they should pay if they would use a day labor or temp labor service. That's not "work", that's exploitation, slavery, and very likely illegal (and rightfully so, as opposed to the mar*juana laws, which are in no way, not morally, not scientifically, not even socially right). I refuse to participate in it.

Have a nice day!