Library

So here I am. Sitting in the Library so I can post this blog. What the hell has happened to me?  How did I end up like this? To be honest, when Kristi and I moved in to our apartment, we had every intention of getting some WiFi hooked up. Then I found Erma. I neighbor, to dumb to secure their WiFi with a password. jackpot. Then Erma got hip. A few months had passed, and the dreaded little lock appeared. I was devestated. Archdeacon came to the rescue. A new unlocked WiFi access. It worked wonderfully. I no longer even had to sit in Gabe's room, the laptop perched precariously on the window ledge to use it, as I had to with Erma. Then, Archdeacon was gone. Moved was my guess. But near the end of my relationship with Archdeacon, I had been cheating with Netspend22. And now, after a month or so of that brief affair, Netspend22 is gone.

So here I am. The public freakin' library. Have you ever seen the people who use public library Internet? If they're wearing shirts at all, they're either Nascar or baggy Stewie as Scarface. Mullets, gold teeth, unbent hat brims turned to the side with the stickers still on, old seventies band shirts. I'll tell you, never have I seen such harmony between white trash and ghetto fab. They've come together folks, uniting over the choice to spend their hard earned money (maybe hard earned, or collected from the government.)  bags of weed and sixteen 'rillos a day to smoke it with, instead of the internet.

And now, I'm one of them.

It's not the first time. When we had just moved in, before we were settled, I came over to check my email once. The woman behind me speant the whole time I was there loudly talking onto her cellphone about how the governtment had taken custody of her children because she refused to take some sort of anti depressant. Everyone could hear her, and she seemed not to care. I thought it was bad enough to have to go to the library to use the interent. Not for this woman. She needed you to know she was suicidal and an unfit mother too.

Pray for me.