yesterday, my family was stranded in the white mountains of arizona. it was supposed to be a simple trip to the casino (to calm some urges) and to wash a bit of laundry. when my sister called and told me what happened, i was immediately angry. then she turned the phone over to my mother where she simply told me that they were having problems with the van, again. i immediately said bye.

the bye wasn't too good. i interjected some bullshit not caring anything about their well being or health. i said something shitty like, "what about the debt? you know this doesn't help any much." my mother replied calmly, "we're stupid." i said bye quickly. if it was possible, id slam the phone. i didn't. the phone wasn't built for slamming. and besides who slams the phone nowadays?

man,  i was so pissed i headed to my bedroom to lie down where i closed my eyes. deep inside. my heart, my head, and my eyes. it fucking hurt. i wanted to cry but i couldn't. because its ridiculous. my dad was always good to remind me that navajos shouldn't cry, unless you want to bring on something to you. and because you would only cry if someone died. but man it hurts. isn't that enough reason?

the year i thought would be much better. its been shitty so far. so many things so many problems. but for me ive been sensitive. i don't know. its just like that this time around.i guess you could say that there are too many things held inside of me. and i know that they're starting to eat at me. so what else to do? 

fuck. fuck. fuck. fuck. i say that desperately. why me, why us?

after lying on the bed, with my eyes closed, i went to sleep. sleep for me is a safe place. its a place where i can some peace from this manic disposition im in. its a place where i can dream and wish to have things be the way they should be. if not, there are nightmares. i don't mind having them compared to what i exaggerate to what i feel is one in my real life.

so, i slept for 25 minutes. yes it wasn't long, but it was long enough not to carry any guilt about having to sleep while my parents were working to making a van operable. i really felt bad about giving my folks a cold shoulder. they didn't deserve it. i mean it was all circumstantial. stuff like this happens. from there i grew up and gave them a phone call. my mother happily answered, giving me not a great news but one to work with where THINGS LIKE THIS DOES HAPPEN. to anyone.

so with that i will say, fuck it!!!

today i ate an apple candy that looked like a ring. i remember that for the taste - it tasted like green apple. but not the real kind. because real apples taste better. but then again, FUCK IT.   

as a kid i thought i would be a talented breakdancer. it stopped when the battles got too intense. why do people bring on the big guns?

about a week ago i was given a certified mail retrieval card. out of my fears, i dreaded them - the fucking orange "certified mail" card. the ones my aunts and my mom got informing them of debts or bad legal news. i nearly balled and felt defeated when i discovered the card from a stack of mail left by a relative on the lamp table. i took it to my room and hid it between my crap of things on my dresser. i hoped it would disappear like the other bills that i would leave there (and would eventually find two months later when i cleaned it up and discarded them without a moment's doubt.)

man, what would it be? this fucking certified mail. two things bombarded my thoughts of despair. i.r.s. shit or student loan (man, give me a fucking break and america for that matter. times are hard, y'all).  both of which i knew i defaulted on. or could it be.............possibly....something deeper.....maybe a pending lawsuit. my throat felt even more sore. i wanted to vomit.

the last time i vomited was when i found out a debt turned into a five figure one. i went into the restroom and puked out what was nothing but bitterness in clear spews. the nasty stuff tasted as i remember how asprin used to taste when i took them. i vomited long and hard, haunched over like a bulmic on the toilet bowl. 

that night i didn't sleep. i contemplated picking the shit up the next day or holding up until its deadline...the day they would send it back to its mailer. they would have to know something was up - "he died and he can't check his mail" it would project. nah, that was too wishful and moronic. however, the notion picked on me hour by hour into the wee hours of the morning where i forgot about it at work.  

the certified mail....the bane of postal activity...the hauntings of the peppermint green tab sticker on important document parcels. it stabs. it invokes desperate emotions of failure, anger, and death. if you haven't gotten one, you're fucking lucky.

so today, i nearly exhausted its deadline. i HAD to pick it up. avoiding it would be chicken shit. 'sides, it couldn't be that worst? there are people who are in worse conditions, right? i was getting a mail dammit! 

after 15 minutes in line, a dent in my lunch break, devoided of emotions, and hungry... i picked it up. the post office clerk announced, "uh-oh." like a demon santa claus saying, "ho, ho!" i knew it. just give me the fucking mail already. i grabbed it and stuck it under my arms and headed home.

and where do you think it went? right.

as a kid i wanted to be a breakdancer. i fucking owned the cardboard on the high desert sands of the eastern navajo reservation. then i got real. as a kid, things were much simplier. life was fun and dominating. i wish it to be that way. im tired of battles.