small brush shouldn't fuck with big timber

Death's Door, the view from the Spanish announcers table: <strong>change</strong>

Monday, December 29


Well I had a very easy and uneventful Christmas, got up early and spent it with my mother, sister and brother. My brother was in town from the east coast and it was good seeing him for a while. I came away with some nice loot, a few shirts, and a nice coat for standing on the bus stop and such, plus some pants and another pair of shoes. At this point in my life I have more shoes in my possession then I’ve ever had. Kind’a makes me feel all metrosexual and shit when I go out, cause instead of grabbin my old boots; I now have a smorgasbord of footwear to choose from. For Christmas my mother cooked up an old-fashioned soul food dinner, Cornish hens with rice, dressing, “real” macaroni and cheese plus pork chops and greens. And for dessert she pulled out her famous banana pudding, made with sliced bananas and vanilla wafers. And a couple of nights later she called me over for catfish and potatoes. Damn fine eating if I must say so. Friday night I hit Bender’s with Mito for a while and Saturday it was the Hurricane for a bit. Sunday was all about lounging at home in my brand new “big pimpin robe” that my mother and sister got for me. It’s all velourish and red and plus it has a hood and hangs clear to the floor. I spent all day trying to see how much I couldn’t do until Michelle called me and decided to break her tiny feet off in my ass for being a slacker, and now she’s not talking to me and shit. I was already fallin back into bad habits and not doing right by my doctor and she took me to task for it, so I gots to hop back up on the health bandwagon. Its just kind’a hard to stay focused on eating right and health issues when it’s just me around. I know that’s no excuse but years of bad shit is just so hard to break. Like when the doctor told me that I should eat three squares a day. Now for a cat that’s used to eating maybe two meals a day at best, that’s some hard shit to stick too, I also need to cut back on the Beam and quite smoking, out of all the above I figure smoking will be the easiest. At one time I stopped for seven years and another time for two, so I know that can be done with the proper drugs and all that. After Michelle hung up I ended up talkin to Mito and explained to her that there has to be some changes made in my habits and shit and that she’d have to help me on a couple. Mito said that she understood even though she’s the devil and Michelle’s the angel in the relationship but that they both love me and simply want me to be around for em. So today I called the rehab center and made myself an appointment for next week. So that’ll turn into three to four months of working out under the supervision of some seriously deranged fitness chicks, during the same week I’ll forgo with all the smoking. Depending on how the wellbutrin works my head, I’ll either get manic like a muthafucker cause it’s going to be trying to raise my mood whilst causing me to stop smoking, and my heads not into being happy or I’ll just climb the bell towers and never come down. Either way it’s gonna be worth seeing


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