Halfway House

Need to get use to writing on a computer again, the powers that be have only allowed me pen and paper for business rehab trips, no technology, no Facebook, no social activity that does not involve face to face contact, no alcohol, no drugs, no late nights, with the exception of a brief stint at a Vegas hotel involving a relapse into behaviors of old, broken bottles, torn up rooms, and hurt feelings of which I tend to stay immune to with the help of drugs, alcohol, and some down home reckless abandon, but those ideas, constructs, intentions have been put back on the shelf, hopefully for good, still can't be too sure, cause all of this feels so day to day, minute to minute, where I need a crutch, something mask my hate, disgust, and fear of what I have become as well as what the world around me continues to evolve into every breathing second.

Still not all is bad, the authorities have placed me in a halfway house, my own personal environment to design with posters, office space, and even a microwave, its quiet, mostly elderly people around here, amazing my superiors would put me in such a deadzone without fear of turning it into a rave arena rock concert, yet the stillness has put me at ease, allowed me to sleep with some regularity without running out into the streets with my ass on fire until the early morning, the time change has done me some good and the powers have placed more responsibility on me in hopes it will eat up enough time for me to get my head back together, find some new direction that does not involve constant partying during off hours, right up until the clock for the next shift down at the production plant beckons my call.

Can also say my head hurts, my brain, I can feel it again, not necessarily emotions but the physical fact that there is some sort of mass under my greying hair, just how functional it may be has yet to be determined, a part of me has Parkinson peg for the future, so might as well write everything down before it slips away like the night in the rising dawn, calm, a bit jumpy at times could be due to stress, never have acknowledged it before, for the fact when in my industry, mere acknowledgement signals a sign of weakness and that will only result in competition engaging in various means of psychological warfare to unhinge me from my position, a hostile front is a well guarded front, the enemy will not go un-noticed unless the enemy happens to be me, then I shall turn a blind eye, but not anymore, I have imprisoned those self destructive, college frat partying, and angst ridden sarcastic attitudes, tired of holding this mantel, this worthless championship belt, for what, for being able to make an ass out of myself better than the next person, living the selfish juvenile bacholar's life, grinding everyone in my path into hamburger, some people love this about me, I have found myself at a point of recognition, due to age more than anyone particular human being, for most human beings are not worth much to begin with, nothing more than shoppers in the global economy, fuck machines for the next generation slaves who will do nothing more than take their place. Is that how you want to be remembered, for fucking, spending, and wasting away, not I.

So now what, kick the habits, clean up, get health insurance, and look both ways before I cross the street, seperating myself from dangerous repititive behavior puts me in a space I have not had much experience in up to now. Civilian, street clothed drone with briefcase in hand. These images have not gone away, the slow boxing in of humanity by our own stupid desires that will continually be fulfilled, too much money involved now, too many souless people who can offer up needs 24/7, why warn anyone, just jump on the money train and watch the cash roll in. This is part of my new deal, the only reason my superiors have not locked me up, stock options, equipment purchases, and blatant propoganda, the ministry of truth holds the deed to my soul, its value still to be determined, like an indentured servant, I have not been given the total sum, the committees are currently in the process of coming to a figure that shall return a generous profit for my services, there is talk of a retirement fund, maybe some work in global field, the bosses have their way of persuading me to buy into this whole routine, rather forced but, they have files on me and video, plenty of witness to send me into nonexistence pretty easily, terminate with extreme prejudice has been bounced around, the powers put the gun in my hand and ask me to kill, all sense of hope, change, and ideals, replacing them with sexual desire, material wealth, and corporate greed, my new philosophy, boredom, complacency, and fear of the unknown.

There was an attempt at setting me up with a new female partner, ran my course with the last one, I had been activated, no longer able to remain dormant, undercover, field work, thought I had my last good run of it in my twenties, but had been tapped to get back out into the darker, dirtier work, the degenerate lifestyle, investigate, document, and report, this last vestige of twisted freedom, had the cross hairs on it, mandate from headquarters, outright disregard for social and cultural standards had to be adhered to, this general movement toward recreational drug use was spearheading a movement to legalization of a various substances, who knows where it might end or worse, continue, even pharmasudical drugs have taken off into a world of their own, abusers have no preferrence just as long as it gets you fucked up, who cares whether it is Phizer or the drug dealer down the block. The new active was about as routine, bland, and well programmed as they get, had to put together a small software program that would adjust my actions and reactions to that of seventh grader, television, sitting on the couch watching movies, and a general mindless spirit of sex felt more like punishment then an award for kicking drugs, maybe I am being primed for something or someother active down the road, either way, the night out did not take, makes you begin to question your overall slot in the food chain of the singles scene which in Las Vegas has an intense arena of extremes.

My brain is still too wired for fun, for debauchry, for all out decadent commotion, fast lane, burn it at both ends until I can't remember anything at all, outside of waking up on a halfmade bed the next afternoon with the place in shambles, no recollection of how this might have happen, all to ready to move on before detection, put up the do not disturb sign, check out early, cancel the credit card, and buy a new cellphone, leave no trail or leads, strike the match, watch the flame, and fiddle away like Nero before the wolves arrive, no time now, others to burn down, crank up the energy, all those around me, accept too willingly encouraging my deposition to a point of intorable nature, you asked me here, so I came, laying waste to this wanton surrounding should not disturb you, in fact everyone asked for it to be done, said it had been long overdue, so why all the static now, all the negativity, such a joke, can't you hear me laughing at my own demise, can't you here me calling, shouting, screaming at how much I can no longer stand my actions, but everyone turns their back on the pleas, it's just Miller being Miller, if that is the case then why complain or intercede, stand back, we're gonna shut this mutha down.