Chapter 32




My door slammed on me.  Its late at night.  Housing came into my room while I was at work to change the doors.  They fixed the hinges so now the door shuts on its own.  This is extremely dangerous.  I live next to the BFG.  Its what I call him.  He does not like to be woken up and loud door noises are among the most dangerous noises to direct towards his room three doors away.  He will take the one step it takes to get to your door the moment it shuts and let you know not to make loud noises as he is a day sleeper.  The door just slammed, granted its late at night.  But you do not mess withe the BFG.  I need to make the BFG happy as I need good dreams from his trumpet he blows into my window.   And, now I will be worried the entire time I write this chapter that he will knock on my door complaining of my noise.  Even moving yesterday.  I moved most of my boxes of junk across this miserable majestic far off wilderness, and made sure while carrying the most heavy wooden box not to awkwardly bump it against his wall.  And then after it was all moved down stairs waiting for the truck the construction workers down stairs sounded as if they were all pounding hammers on the building walls in random noise making hammering.  I cringed and whispered to them to not wake up the BFG.
I didn't write yesterday.  I worked all day and into the night.  I tried to not let the constant harassment of either the voices in my head, psychic talk, or voyeur'd interactive entertainment for the masses that I get at work to get to me all swollen in anger.  It got to me.  I had been asked to help the dish washers do dishes.  I did.  And then enough was enough.  I went to the chain of command and said they were caught up.  They were caught up.  If it was base ball and it was fly ball practice, all the balls were now in the air, so to speak.  Besides one of the guys decided to take a break holding up one of my sides, so I figured they were done.  And I went to ask to leave.  And left an hour early of a standard eight hour shift.  To make things worse, the store was now closed and a night cap was out of the question so a sober night would be time to face.  And thats fine.  I do sober nights.  Usually my weekends are sober to make them last longer.  And my week days I inebriate myself to calm the talking back I'll fill my nights with to side the constant advice/harassment.  Its ok, I think.  Its been three days since I've gotten any real sleep.  And then when I finally did fall asleep at an early eleven I awoke for twenty minutes every hour on the hour all night long.  Kind of nice as it was like a snooze button that I used all night.  
Today was play catch up and do a normal days work that the summer asks for.  We are waking up from a winter slowness and soon everything will be full swing exhausting.  Tomorrow will be a walk in the park as most of my fridays are.  Its fun, I love my job.
The people in the housing section I live in have learned that I'm moving.  And they are sad that my window will not be so close to them anymore.  They are sad that they cannot talk at me as often anymore.  They are sad that they cannot invade the ten minutes of cooking time I need the communal kitchen to pretend they are talking to each other while they encourage something I would adamantly argue to their hand held denial.   Who'd have thought that talking at me would be a privilege?  These people had their opportunity to get to know me.  They had their chance to speak to me like a person.  But they'd rather not.  They throw barbecues and heckle my window with the support of nothing I can control.  They want me to get mad and write a mean rap song that I yell at a radio station.  I am so glad we don't get radio in this far off miserable majestic wilderness.
The critic wants me to stay.  Hey, suck a dick critic.
The critic is begging that I stay.  I will stay critic.  Just not near you or from what I understand that is you.  don't worry, they will me move me soon from the temporary housing to an area where more younger people are and I will be subjected to the same behavior, I'm sure.  But the privilege it apparently was to live near my window will be given to others.  And those others will be given a chance to spend time with me.  And if they choose to play your hand held pretend talk as you do I will put up with it or act out and be evicted fully from you shit heads.  
……
I just got back from work.  I don't know what just happened.  I'ma try to figure it out next chapter.