Yeah, it's Sunday...5:20 AM on a Sunday.
Whaaat? And why the hell are you already up?! - that's the question, amIrite?
I guess mostly because I'm already used to get up early, everyday...and I just feel like waking up early, and see the twilight slowly morphing into daylight...and I was fucking hungry, too. And wanted my nic'n'coffee treat. Yeah, what a treat. I'm also used to go early to bed, you know:
Early To Bed
Early to bed and early to rise
Makes a man or woman
Miss out on the nightlife
Early to bed and early to rise
Makes a man or woman
Miss out on the nightlife
One drink, call it an early night
Soon you're curled up beneath the reading light
Or you bathe in the TV's blue tint
On your pillow an after-dinner mint
Early to bed and early to rise
Makes a man or woman
Miss out on the nightlife
Early to bed and early to rise
Makes a man or woman
Miss out on the nightlife
Early to bed so you can wait
For three buses, a trolley and a train
I think it's worth it for you to stay awake
Maybe tomorrow you'll be a little late
But early to bed and early to rise
Makes a man or woman
Miss out on the nightlife
Early to bed and early to rise
Makes a man or woman
Miss out on the nightlife
You'll miss out on the night life
You'll miss out on the night life
Ah, Morphine. Now that's some excellent band I haven't heard in ages. And thank you, Mr Bittorrent, I'll have the full discography today. Yeah. A rock'n'roll band thrio, one bass, one multi-saxophone man, and a drummer. What could be wrong?
Could it be weird? Yes, I guess. But what am I, if not a weirdo myself? And no, I don't mind. I'm even started to enjoy the terrified looks on some faces, when they see a human pitbull, all dressed in black, covered in tattoos approach. Some criticize it, like that fucking cab driver. But who was he, indeed? A fucking idiot, that's what. Evangelist, lamb of god. Full of shit, my brain translated.
And most of the people who feel afraid of me, are fucking morons. What? Haven't you ever saw a neo-nazi from the eighteenth century, shaved head, handlebars and beard? No? Well, I am your surprise today, tell all your friends! A fucking "cerol" had quite a laugh at me, while I was rididng the bus last Friday, and you know, fuck him too. What does a fucking asshole who has money to own a smartphone(owned or stolen? that's another question) blasting that crap they DARE to call music, "fanque carioca" and rides for free, like a fucking parasite he IS, does know or understand about me being myself, unique in my weird way, while he was just like a fucking worm of society, living in some dump at a slum somewhere, infested by those rats of society, what does he know?
Do I really care? Not at all. I'm feeling fine, better and better, day by day, thanks to my very own "Dr Robert", my man, my doc. Drugs are quite amazing, ain't them? Because I shifted from being depressed and suicidal to...well, feeling quite alright, at the moment. I just hope it lasts.
Today, at this very early hour, I feel just fine. Again, round of applause to "Dr Robert", PhD in dealing with weirdoes like me. And I know, I do have some issues to worry about, like the fact that I'll need a loan to buy my remaining meds I'll need to buy, a shitload of money to a poor bastard like me, who barely make ends meet, with my piece of shit salary.
But I don't care. Shit happens. And I know, I should've been aware of the fact that I might had the need to spend more of my own money on those drugs, before I made my newest purchases, to further enhance this amazing device I am still paying for, this gigantic smartphone, "outdated" to some, but absolutely better than my previous one, that drove me mad every time I had to type anything, on that tiny screen. Well, lesson learned. And I do have one of the best moms one could have, even though I was too busy worrying about killing myself to even consider the fact that I shouldn't have spent all that money on the gadgets I purchased that day, the same day I went to see Dr Fabio. I should have thought that he might have some additional drugs for me to take, thus more money to be spent on them.
But I'd rather owe more money to mum or whoever loans me such money, than undergo ECT, that nightmarish treatment they still use on some patients at this point of history of medicine. That is some barbaric process, let me tell ya. I know, because I've seen what it does to a person, years ago, when my Owner and mighty Boss, the heir to the Empire i work for, had to undergo on such "treatment". It literally tore him apart more than anything. Erased all his memory from those days. He doesn't even remember that I did spend a night with him at that nuthouse he was committed to, the ill-famed "Santa Maria Hospital" - man, that was a night I'll never forget. One of the most AWFUL experiences I've ever had. I couldn't sleep at all, surrounded by such human misery, all that pain and loss those unlucky people roaming throughout the hospital were experiencing, dribbling opn themselves, barely able to speak at all, due to so many drugs they had to take, mostly forced upon them, Thorazine and such. They all looked like fucking zombies, poor bastards.
And my then friend, Mr Millionaire was one of them. I don't even like to remember how fucked up he was back then. And did the ECT cured him? Nope. It just made him even worse. The crazy doctor who treated him recommend that shit, and it did more harm than good, WAY more harm. That's why I freaked out that day. I think I'd die if I had to go through that hell myself.
What I did forget is that my own "Dr Robert" - who is, by the way, the same doc treating my Owner and Boss nowadays - isn't a nutjob like that crazy doctor who recommended such evil "mistreatment" to Antoan, Boss and Owner of mine, is a pharmacologist. He treat us crazy people with drugs, and I'll have them all, oh yes, I'll take wahtever he prescribes me, other than going to the nuthouse. Have my brains fried. Drugs? Well, I am a drug user since 2000, even though it was the still illegal plant known as "grass", "marijuana", and other slangs I'm not even aware of.
I've quit that, now. I've stopped being the bum I've turned into, daring into the darkness to acquire the roach leftovers at 4:20 square, now again merely "Praça do Papa" for me, again. No way I'm using that shit again. At least,not intentionally and on a daily bais like I was doing, like I described here so many times before. It was messing all the treatment I was under, in a bad way. So, fuck that shit. I'll just have the prescribed medicine from now on.
And you know what? I feel so much better now, so why fuck it all up just to feel stoned? Fuck that.
And here it is, the new day arises. Time for me to finish my breakfast and go sweep the yard. It's the least I can do to please my mom, my family. I don' really care, for now I've got this amazing device they call Galaxy SIII, and in it I've stored enough music to please me while I do unpleasant things.
Well, that is it for now. Early Sunday report, ends here. Have y'all a g'day, mates.
Until later, I bid y'all farewell.
