...(slight return)

Cleveland, OH --- 10/6/06

....(slight return)


On the way back Home already, my work in Ohio completed, and my old Nemesis has stalked me cross-country to ambush me; the Rotten Aches that spring forth bi-annually from my Rotten Teeth!

So here I sit in the dining-car, waiting for the subtle glow of Sunrise to burst the sky open so I can sport my brand new shades. The Doctors of Cleveland gave me narcotics to relieve the toothache, and they work, but I kid you not, they make me look and feel unhealthy. More on that later, but, to be sure, I'd rather feel loopy than suffer in pain.

I spent no time in Cleveland proper. I'd planned to go out one night to a Blues Jam...but for some reason (let's call it fatigue) I stayed in drowning myself ducky all night and got a start on the Job...

The Job itself went off smoothly, without a hitch, but my Ladyfriend gave me the very uncomfortable trouble that I had warned her against, that is, romantic advances.

You've heard the line of Van Morrison, "What a marvelous night to make romance"?

It works the other way, too. I told her before departing that I wasn't in the luvvin' mood, and she assured me "no pressure"...I suppose, in the end, it is better to be desired than despised, but it still made for some awkward, unsettling moments.

Garbage weather the duration of my stay, too; clouds, rain, cold, gloom, wind, fog, more clouds. Had the clime been pleasant and inviting, I'm sure I would have been more determined to see the City itself.

Gads. Oxycodone is making it hard to focus, and anyway, it's penicillin-time!


* * *


Ack! This tooth-pain is still killin' me, geeky vision and all!! Work for me, penicillin, baby!


* * *


There is an enormously fat man in the seat behind me, making an incredible amount of noise. He's blurbing, gurgling, gulping, steaming, grunting, belching, moaning, glugging, chomping, and bugging the daylights out of me. I'm not angry with him, I'm annoyed to all tarnation that he's behind me and there are no other available seats in the car. It's not his fault (I grant him) that his physical condition makes him such a simmering mess, but he's ruined the hour that the narcotics are super-pleasant with all of his revolting carryings-on.k I say that with no malice, his constant eruptions are truly nauseating.

Well, now the drugs are working, I'm doped, I feel no pain. I'm worried, though--the "harmless" are actually the ones which can eat away liver and stomach, and because they are attached to the truly effective painkillers, I'm consuming overdoses of them. Why must a pill of oxy-or hydrocodone contain acetaminophen?
Wholly un-necessary.

The guy's gonna drive me batty...it's only because now I'm exhausted, and his swine-like ejaculations keep me from catching any 'z's...

Maybe if I stretch out a little better?


* * *


Dyin' for a drink here! Last 2 times I had one, though, doped up as I am, I took to bitter vomiting. I'll take sobriety over suffering any day!!!

I've lost track of my medicating tee, to boot! I'm pretty sure it was 8 o'clock, and I try try to make it 6 hours between, but, trouble seems to start brewin' after about 4 . I'm developing unsightly black circles under my glazzboks, and little red spots here and there, on my beak and my cheeks.

And the overcast sky is neverending! Half of the trees flying by are dark and skeletal, the others cling desperately to their colourful plumage, and a steady drizzle strafes the windows. Grey...a vast grey and brown landscape, slipping by slow degrees into the slumber of the snowy solstice.

Crumbs. Now I started thinking about my accursed teeth, they're startin' to bug. Why? Is it the hot cocoa? What the Hell!! I can't pop pills ever two hours, it's just plain unhealthy, but I can't let the pain get on a tear, either, or it will take a serious dosing to reel it back in. I'll lay off the panic-button for now. I wish it would all just stop hurting altogether so I could lay off the pharmaceuticals and have a good, old-fashioned beverage-plus already.

Now, a word about the Midwestern accent? Told from my own, tiny, personal perspective, mind you.

I find the Midwester accent to be like many, many others in that it is initially cute, and charming even, but soon....it has taken only a week and I'm....well, I've had my fill.

"Does yer mahm hiav one?"

"I donno if she hias one er naht."

"Let's go to a cahncert!"

"Iactully, I'd love thiat!"

"We kin stahp fer cahfee."

"Yeah, we''ll pass right by a good spaht fer thiat."

Dare I say it? Chahmin', at first.

I wonder if I look as drugged out as I feel. I'm without any sort of energy---kinetic or potential whatsoever. It's hard to keep my glazzies open, but my seat in coach is hardly comefortable enought to be tempting me back into it from the dining-car here.

Still, my lids are shutting.


* * *


My tolerance to the pills has reached the "boring" level. No longer delightfully fuzzy 'round the edges, they simply stay the pain of my degenerate dental delegates. Well, it was fun while it lasted. Narcotics induce funky dreams.

Another sleepy little town with a Native American name, couple steeples and warehouses, and our late-running train rolls on. Another drop-dead gorgeous black girl coasting down the aisle, heaving a deep breath as she passed, prompting her full busom to rise, the bottom of her sweater to pull away from the waistline of her denim, revealing a flat and soft-looking tummy, de color cafe con leche, and she was biting the insides of her lips, forcing great dimples from the the comely confines of her cheeks. She was beautiful, beautiful, beautiful....

O, a pair of poor Midwestern girls missed their stop, and their little section of the coach is babbling with refrains of "Stahp", and "Pliatform", in ver disappointed tones. I feel bad for them; it is no small detour. Hehe. Now the older of the two is scowling around, and said of the conductor, "She's gonna get it."

O! And now she's hunting her down. Now I don't know all the facts, but it seems---to me---that they simply didn't pay attention, or ask when in doubt, and now the trickle-down blame game is underway. That's just how it seems to me.

We're late, and getting later judging by the meandering velocity at which we're rolling through the damp, green countryside. Now everyone is sighing loudly and getting agitated, making partly apologetic and partly condemning phone calls to those expecting them. Me, I've done this enough times, me. I always assume the trains will run late, up to an hour. That's what I expect. Of course, now we are sitting inexplicably motionless...where'd that heavenly , coffee-coloured lady disappear to, I wonder? Just as I finished

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I hate to leave you hanging like this, but my notes have suddenly become troublesome.


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