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Her hair fell lifeless on the comforter, long red locks like spun copper; kinked into fiery bundles and quickly matted with the heavy stench of iron. The moment played over and over in my mind, this wicked stop-action movie, there was no comfort left in the place and it didn’t take anytime for that reality to set in. I think that’s when I left; it could have been a few hours after the ambulance arrived, or maybe after the hospital.
Sterility leaves that burn all over you.
Perhaps, my BIOS is acting up or corruption in the packet transfer?
These errors arouse concern generally in the moments before you find yourself on a table under some hypnotic algorithm for a techtopsy; best not to think about it.
A series of yes or no questions, a few signatures a trip to the restroom and I was out.
It was most definitely after leaving the hospital that I knew all ties had been severed. That Rozz was gone forever and although I wasn’t biodegradable, I was most definitely disposable. Its closest analogy would be the sloughing of dead skin; a flicker, reboot and restart is all it takes to be born anew. I stopped counting after hitting the hundreds for my own sanities sake. How many lives I’ve passed through, normal, exotic, and dangerous; sometimes its better not knowing everything, having to defrag it all is a processing nightmare. I’ve done a few hacks and patches, I know enough to keep me safe not like last week, it’s possible I overlooked something, maybe. Sometimes I just get irrational, but for now I’m just a little lost. Waiting for the Directive Live Stream, under our Universal Agreement and my status, it’s the only thing I can set my clock to, the only way to have a Legal Identity Shift and be registered for Societal Integration. I can feel the transformation, and am well aware of it. I feel like a super aH, but I know better than to delve into that and let it lead me to conclusions. The only thing I should feel concerned with is my new assignment, thing is as the last burn fades into oblivion leaving only a latent print the seduction of trying to figure out the past I find harder to resist with every new LIS. I think that’s what got Rozz. It’ll only be a few more moments before she’s little more than an angel in a dream, but I cling to it not wanting to let her go into the ether.
Why can’t I keep this one memory, just this one time?
I feel like it’s an argument I’ve already had a thousand times over but it doesn’t make it right-to rip everything away and shove me back into the everyday. Her heart shaped face brought a smile to mine, porcelain framed in a fiery mane she called hair, shadows seemed cast on my memories, and now I can barely remember what it was I was talking about. I know there’s a woman, and that she’s terribly important to me, somehow. It’s going to drive me crazy; maybe I should write a letter to the Directive. Maybe they’ll know what the problem is, my malfunction, or maybe I’ll give the LIS some time to adjust to.
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http://www.petwalk.com/ubb/Forum6/HTML/000083-4.html http://www.consumeraffairs.com/pets/banfield.htmlSo Banfield's Pet Hospital is a corporation that doesn't care about pets, and hires doctors who are incompetent---except when they find reasons to charge you for redunt or inflated 'exams' and services which we never rendered in the first place. My cat recieved 2 misdiagnosis' and now is in the care of a private doctor whom not only was able to diagnosis her within 5 minutes of his inital exam, but also listened to my concerns about her symptoms...unlike 2 of the 3 doctors I saw at the Laurel and Columbia Banfield's Pet Hospital in Maryland. For her condition, she's about to undergo surgery which should ACTUALLY give her a clean bill of health, unlike the relentless slue of doctors visits, tests/exams, and antibodics (over a $1000 out of pocket and equally as much claimed in 'savings') which cause her underlying problem to be dormant, until she has another flare up. All of this, which my current vet informed me lead to her current heart and kidney condition probably could have been treated this past spring, or even last year and maybe circumventing her current state all together. Sadly I'm left with an inflated bill, which mysteriously is more than paying out to the end of the year, that is without of the proclaimmed 'extras' in their 'not healthplan' but discounted 'bundle package'...how can this math be right when I never opt for the actual expensive 'extras'? Cost of 1 year plan: $359.40 Cost to buy out of the plan: $365.01
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For the most part, all holidays spent with family are a maddening arduous task that I must undergo for some undetermined amount of time. Show up, get sucked in and return home as the sun has set and I have no concept of what happened in the 4-8 hours of my life that I feel somehow I was cheated…this past Mother’s Day however uncomfotable it started, ended on a damn good note. Wake up, run to the store, foughting with other customers for the ‘best floral arrangement’ and to my anguish, forgot my credit card at home. Terrible luck for me, I went home to find D playing with his models and ran back to the store. The clerk surprised with my return, but as promised, payment, a short revisit and I was on my way. I had somehow forgotten it was D’s ex-wife that was the florist, and we arranged the flowers as best I could, with a bit of teasing antagonism from, D. After which we had an arrangement. It was beautiful!! Parental units call, what sort of pizza would be ideal? Timing, a bit off, a tiny white lie about my location and things seemed pretty set. They want to walk in the park---I dread our arrival. D is less than pleased. After changing and arguing with D for a bit, we left for my parent’s house. Suspicious of what will transpire next, we arrive. Ma’ is whining about everything, Da-doo is pleasantly optimistic and in a no-more-bullshit sort of mood. Simple makes the man happy. A few teasing pokes about the gift, a candle warmer with my mothers favorite scent, and some praise about the flowers, it’s been engraved in my mind EXACTLY what sort of arrangement is acceptable. Kind of a sore subject. Unlike yours truely, Ma doesn't like white (white, being understandable---as she's not deceased) or tea roses...though they smell the bestest...actually she hates all other flora, red roses are the only acceptable flowers to give Ma, and showing without flowers is completely unacceptable. Ya can't win.
After lunch, Ma makes everyone uncomfortable, Alexander makes plans to roll out as soon as possible, and Da-doo strikes up a conversation about employment…somehow he also manages to recruit Alexander’s friend---in a ‘this is how to go about getting a federal job’, a 4 hour conversation about where to go, what to say and how to get a job ensues. In the midst of this, my brother lends me his PS2, he’s moving back home after graduation from Drexel…and I walk with hundreds of dollars of games/controllers…including the absolutely ridiculous ‘Guitar Hero’ which either D or I intend on playing… I panic a bit as we make for the door with lots of working knowledge of federal employment, a PS2 and lots of Korean food (yums). Turns out D wasn’t mad---which I worried he would be. It wasn't my idea or plan for this whole work thing to happen, my Dad just gets on tangents and can't stop if he's knowledgable about the subject.
Dadoo extended an offer to help, and we made out like bandits…so no matter how the day seemed to be heading, it was all gravy by the time we got home. Just have to pick up a memory card for the PS2 now… While D has lots of work to do on his resume…he’s got people who really genuinely want nothing more than to help him. It's kinda awesomes. Yay.
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So for the past several months I've been a volunteer working for the independent coffee house as the art coordinator. It's seemingly been a good run. For every show: I try and get the artist excited, I come to help or supervise the initial installation (depending on the artists), make sure all the fine details are taken care of---talk to management to get them a reasonable deal for compensation. Then I show up for the open, let the staff know what's going on and sit back and watch, make sure the artists are comfy...it's their show, they're the stars...and they've done real well.
Yesterday the new music coordinator got on my shit for some new things I wanted to try, things to make the place better...the owner backed me on some no-brainers, and basically everything I said was somehow retarded according to the new guy. I remember when the owner was ANTI-myspace...now he can't get enough of it. But the thought of me using it, to get information out to my artist contacts...hells no, it's a terrible idea, when basic marketing argues otherwise.
I was so upset, my feelings were hurt, and I was angry; I cried most of the night.
I've been having an off week. I'm crying right now, I'm still upset---
Somewhere in my mind, I had this idea, that the one place that I give freely of myself, that I actually pay to be a part of...would be a safe place to be when feeling pretty down about life. I was wrong. Everything I was doing wasn't good enough, and every idea I had to make things better---was shot down. Although, every show we've put on thus far has been 'bigger and better' and people have enjoyed the hell out of themselves.
So D is going to tell them I resign---I'm too emotional...I get hurt and I'm inconsolable. He hates seeing me like that, and no one has the right to make me feel like shit, especially not when I am a volunteer and I am NOT THIS FUCKERS SUBORDINATE. I’ve done nothing short of the best I could with my own PERSONAL resources, with my own PERSONAL time. I work a normal 9-5 and then I do more…oh well if it’s not enough. They can find a robot to make a list of names, I made shows, and I did it well.
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