Three hours until my dinner dish washing shift. One hour to commute to the University, walk to the dorms and eat before work. So two hours for this paper. Sigh. I can do this. True, I have not actually read the books but I have listened to Vince talking about the Oort Cloud. Start with the basics. How far away? Hmm. It's halfway to Proxima Centauri which is the next star over from our sun. But how many AUs..? Library. Ok, how about composition? Well ice duh. So water, methane and..? Fuck! Library. Ok so let's check the first topic. Milky Way tidal force exertion? Really? Wow. Ok, library. Voyager 1? All the NASA bulletin archives are at the...sigh. Library. I give up.
I am tired. Rent was paid, the coffers are bare. Kym and I are still awake from the cartel pink coke Jason has been slinging at the Warfield shows. I think this is technically the third day of no sleep but from the heroin stupors you lose track of actual sleep VS nodding out on the couch. I keep waking up next to Kym. We are always on the couch. The TV is always on. But the TV shows change so time is indeed passing...
I need my brain today. Lecture Hall is all about absorption. Not just note taking but you must sponge the info. So I need caffeine. Coffee. Luckily my girlfriend works at a coffee shop so we are always fully stocked. I open the cupboard. It's empty except for a note. What? I pick it up and see Jason scrawl:
Fille du démon- I stole your coffee for tonight's backstage party. Here is money and you guys have tickets at will call. Should be a great show. Love and Natas, Jason.
There is no money or tickets. No coffee. I have exactly $.33 cents. I know because I wanted a $.50 Coke from Santino and this is what I found in the couch. Fuck. Ah but in the coffeemaker is two day leftover coffee! I check for mold and it is good. I look at where the microwave should be. There is an empty space. Another note.
Dude- It is not stolen. Merely borrowed. Love and Natas, The Man.
Ok. Ice coffee. I pour in some sugar, stir and open the freezer. Two ice cubes trays. One ice cube between them. I stand there trembling with hopelessness, sleep deprivation and Natas. And Kym. I pop out the ice cube. It bounces off the rim of my cup and lands on the floor with a mocking PLOP!
"KYM!" I bellow.
I have a TERRIBLE, LOW, LOUD voice that is perfect for stopping attacking dogs and alerting everyone in a one block radius of my psychotic displeasure. The sound is so wrong I grow pink cocaine paranoid people will call the cops. My Angry Voice is pure violence.
Kym saunters in wearing her underwear and my Fishbone t-shirt. Her face is coated bright green with avocado facial cream. An orange towel is turban wrapped around her head. She looks at me with extreme displeasure.
"The ice cubes again?" she asks quietly.
I stare at her and just start falling apart. The tiny gnomes constructing my Angry Face start dropping the blocks as they keel over laughing. And I start laughing too.
"Yeah funny!" says Kym not laughing. She turns around and lifts up the t-shirt and bares her butt at me.
I dump the coffee in the sink and wipe the tears from my face. I am going to collapse in a pile of exposed nerve networks and sleep deprived goo. But library. Work. Paper. Life.
Laughing and insane, I call Kym again. Another pink line and one to go in my bullet should get me through today.
I'll worry about sleep tomorrow.