{The following is presented as-is, as I wrote on Saturday, the tenth of March, 2012. It was not long after the incident in question and when I wrote it I was very depressed and upset and disoriented and my blood sugar was very low on whack, and I wrote it in order to purge myself of all the bad emotions that were overwhelming me at the time. I just want to assure you all, then, that I feel fine now, food and textual catharsis did wonders for me, and so don’t go getting worried about me because of all that I say in here. The storm has passed and I am fine now, or at least, back to my usual level of illness anyhow. Read the following with that in mind. }

I had the worst goddamn thing happen to me today and I just have to tell someone about it, and none of my loved ones are available right now, so I will be telling it to you nice people.
Not that I don’t love you people but… well, you know what I mean.

It is a very unique kind of tragedy, very personal, very idiosyncratic, very “me”.

And it’s all about a microwave oven and my lousy connection with the real world.

Let’s start with my day.

I napped last night, a little on the couch, mostly on the one bed in the room after Joe and Julian were off grabbing some stuff from home in Richmond.

Now being extremely poor and barely even a real human being, I do not have a watch or a cell phone. Agoraphobics like myself have no0 need for cell phones and watches are for people who are not in an apartment full of clocks all day.

But hey, there’s a microwave in the room and it has a clock on it, so I am covered, right? wrong.

So I am planning my entire day around a clock that it turns out is behind by five hours or more.

So I show up at a panel thinking it is slightly before noon, and after being at the panel for a while and noticing that it seemed to be entirely the wrong subject, I raised my hand and asked about the panel I thought SHOULD be going on, I find out, quite publicly, that said panel happened many hours ago, and that it is five hours later than I thought.

And everyone laughed at me for being such a clueless tard.

I lost five hours of my life, I was humiliated in public, I feel profoundly dislocated and alienated. and depressed, and I completely missed panels I wanted to attend and all kinds of people I liked were wondering where I was, and I apparently slept through an entire day, more or less, and now I am here in our room feeling paranoid and depressed and trying to figure out what the hell to do next.
the
I efeel really horrible. I thought about going and having dinner in the hotel restaurant, but I could not face hacing dinner all by myself when I am feeling like this.

What I really need is a sympathetic person who will not laugh at me when I tell them all about my fucked up life because of my fucvked up self and fucked up being.

I hate myself right now. This kind of chit doesn’t happen to sane and decent people, it could only happen to a fucked up lloser like myself. I feel so much like my life is pointless right now.

I wantr my life to have meaning and content and substance. Instead, it’s a series of bizarrely bathetic tragedies that make me feel like the bigger loser in the world.

I amk going to have to talk with my therapist about this on Tuesday.

I will try to rejoin the convention this evening. But I don’t know if I can.

God it sucks to be crazy.

{For the record, I did rejoin the convention, I had a wonderful time, and a lovely buffet, and like I said above, I am feeling much better now. The memory of the incident still stings and it will be a while before the incident fades into “anecdote space” where it is just a funny story I tell to illustrate what a lovable goof I am. But give it six months, and it will be there. }

{Oh, and I plan on buying a watch soon to make sure this kind of thing never happens again. }