checking in

For the past three days my body has been fucking with me by playing one of those "you're about to get sick, but sloooowly" games. On Tuesday I woke up with a feeling in the back of my throat that says I've either been smoking like a hag bag, or i'm about to be sick. On wednesday those symptoms manifested themselves into that exact same feeling, only slightly worse, with a few stomach gurgles and bad breath - and today I'm feeling all those things about the same, a bit worse, but not really, yet at the same time really, and its pretty annoying, especially the bad breath part.

The weekend is coming up and it'd be nice if my body gave me a verdict whether I'll be sick or not. Aside from someone vomiting in my mouth, being sick on the weekend is probably one of my worst fears. Ten years down the line I'll probably have different, more responsible fears, but for now those are two of my biggest. Its the prospect of sitting at home on a Saturday night, pale as an Irish Baby's ass, while my drunk friends call me asking where I'm at, although I would've already told them I was sick, but they forgot that information because they're drunk, and I'm not, thus the feelings of depression and fear. Rip off my head and poop down my neck while you're at it Geez.

Speaking of pooping down my neck, I'm taking a creative writing class at SMC. I sorta like it. My teacher is a black male with dreadlocks, and not to stereotype, but I don't find it surprising he wants the majority of the class to focus on poetry. (Just kidding to the African Americans out there. Not all black males with dreadlocks are into poetry. Most of them are homeless, anyways.) Which means I'll be exploring the depths of my emotion and the salty vicissitude of my male PMS, and probably posting whatever crap I come up with here. Cuz I rarely get serious and I haven't written or posted poetry in a while. The last poem I wrote was actually in december. It was called "Christmas". Actually, I'll post it for your pleasure.

"CHRISTMAS" By Greg Olmeda

Oh Christmas
Christmas
How could you do this to me?
Oh Christmas
You're supposed to be fun but you bring me pain
Oh Christmas
Instead of presents you bring me pain
Oh Christmas
The ferns of the Christmas tree tear into my soul
Oh Christmas
Like fragrant needles of destruction
Oh Christmas
Ripping at my soul

Oh Christmas (x4)

I'm becoming a Jew.
-Christmas

That is some raw, ill shit. I didn't write that, it wrote itself. Moving on. Some of you may have noticed the status change. Yes its true, I'm no longer single. A pinto bean has taken me captive and she makes me happy. But she likes to snoop around my page so I will say no more, other than to send all cyber-sex requests to my inbox, rather than posting them in my comment section where they are clearly visible. I'd appreciate that.

Now I'm off to pop an airborne and sleep. Just kidding, I'm really gonna jerk it. Hopefully I'll be well by tomorrow, goodnight.