Monday, February 7, 2005 2:56 PM

I'm at a loss for something to write about. I think about a topic for a half hour and then think "Who gives a fuck." In my current situation the only reason I write anything at all is to fool myself in to believing someone other than me gives a damn.

You might be able to tell from earlier posts that things where I am suck pretty royally. If you've ever eaten food that has a lot of garlic in it you know how it can linger in your body. Hours after you've eaten it you can smell it on your breath, taste it on your tongue. That's how I feel with the drugs that are in my food. I can smell them, taste them; I can actually feel them in my brain. Today it feels almost like I'm tripping, only its not good or fun or pretty, which tripping can be.

So, I guess that's a subject I can write about. There are drugs in my food. Your might as why do I eat it if I know there's drugs in it. Well, there is no food in my house that isn't drugged. Once food is bought it is immediately unpackaged and torn to small pieces, drugged, and put in the freezer. Sounds crazy, huh? Try living it. If I had money I might buy my own food, but I can't seem to find a job. My guess is for whatever reason they drug my food they are afraid for me to work with other people.

I actually tried not eating. Its possible that I'm on several drugs because on the second day of my fast I was so constipated it felt like I had a cinder block coming out of me. It took me three hours to move my bowels. As soon as I started eating again things got better. I could actually handle not eating for quite a while, but the constipated is pretty painful to the point that I imagine prolonged periods of it could be permanently disfiguring, so that's out.

I could leave, but where would I go. Without a job or a place to live, the only option is to lay down in the street, and that's not legal here so I'd be in a shelter. If you want I'll tell you some stories about shelters. There's reasons people choose not to go to them, and they are very good.

Probably the worst part is that I have no say at all in what is happening to me. They don't ask or tell, and if I confront them they say I'm crazy. Pretty funny huh? Drug my food and then when I protest say I'm crazy and need to be on drugs. Its the kind of logic that made the Thrid Reich and any number of other fascist regimes.

If that isn't mad twist enough for you the one that gets me the most is the expectation that I be pleasant. That all of this can go on, and more that I haven't written about yet and I am expected to be pleasant. Frankly its maddening, which of course is more proof that I need to be on drugs. But I'm only assuming, because no one ever talks to me about it.