You know, I have been trying to pinpoint what changes may or may not have occurred from these past medical adventures. And I realize that the main core of my metamorphises involves a general deep self realization about how I feel about situations. The main core of my issue involved the fact that I imagine situations and how I would feel about them, but rarely get to exercise my reaction, as in realize my imagination with most. However, when we were looking for a new roommate, a dude came in who looked as if he had a smirk on his face the whole way through the interview.

We didn’t choose him, simply for the fact that his expression seemed to veil some kind of weird hostility.

This is where my imagined imagination screwed it up.

I emailed this kid, which I did with most, because I wanted to extend everyone the courtesy of a reply because so many had been complaining about that.

In my response to this kid, I included that he might not want to look as if he is laughing the whole way through the interview. Just a head’s up but I realized  (he worked as a script supervisor for a ridley scott film called american gangster and was putting in 12 hour days) that work might be tough but to watch out what his first impressions meant.

He replies, “I smile out of the side of my mouth which some people see is a smirk. Why did you have to criticize me he asked, (continuing with) I thought you two were really nice. But no hard feelings”.

The only way I could win in this instance was by saying I’m sorry. I have become entirely too candid and blunt with people after my heart surgery three months ago. That I had two strokes but am totally awesome.

That I am writing shorts as well, and he might see me around.

He is offended though, not realizing I ended the mail with, 12 hours are long, you should take care of yourself.

Half of me pictures a nice excited response, Hey man, we should write! Then I realize my life is not exciting and driven by strange plot trips. That things for me work in straight lines.

I really wanted to get guacamole and chips. And serve sangria thereby making my own party. Shit just got mellower, though and nothing exciting happened but a meeting with a doll faced gnome-like girl.

But anyways, yeah. I can’t help saying what I think, world. Too many people have been telling me I’m too blunt. When you have no voice though, nobody hears you at all. I get electro shock therapy on my vocal chords for an hour when I go.

Most of my latent hostility is to the fact that everyone stares at me, but nobody has the guts to ask anything. That people make horrendous faces and thoughts about shit that has gone down. That they won’t pull the trigger with a fucked up comment.

That I would pound them so hard in place their minds would never forget.

To them I say, SHAME ON AND STOP MAKING IT OBVIOUS!