Danielle, No DXM, Less Nicotine, 5-HTP, et alia

Yellow Number Five-flavored Banana Drink

Danielle Called Me!

I mailed a letter to Danielle on Saturday and she called me this evening, the very next Monday.

Reference: THE UNIVERSE IS BETWEEN YOUR EARS: Danielle, Duchess of Tulsa

I haven’t seen Danielle since Spring of 2008 just before I moved to Texas. At that time, I was living under a bridge.*

* Which is an exaggeration… It was 9 nights, I think. I doubt spending 9 nights in Cancun means I lived in Mexico.†

† But, I’ve spent more than a total of 9 nights in Mexico, so surely I’m partially a Mexican.‡

‡ Actually, sleeping under the bridge wasn’t as traumatic as some might think. I WAS ALIVE under the bridge. I put the footnotes up here really close for your convenience.

On the last day of bridge life, I called my ex-wife’s Granny and asked if they had any yard work or something they needed done around the house. Her husband, Paul, said no, they didn’t have any work, but if I wanted to come out, they sure would like to see me and feed me a meal. So, I hopped on a bus. I had a bus pass.

They did feed me food, and it WAS AWESOME.

The thing I had to eat before that was an orange.

And the thing I had to eat before the orange, I think, was the Taco Bueno I enjoyed after Danielle shared $5 of her earnings that day with me… Right after telling me that she had not been doing so well lately and was afraid she was going to lose her apartment. She has such a sweet heart. I was really, really hungry.

I wasn’t staying in a homeless shelter that time because while I was waiting in line for a bed that night, they had a small worship service and the praise leader for that little service was a kid I knew — He was my Worldcom rep from whom I leased telephone services for my internet service company.

Young Mister Cobb asked me, “What happened to you, Joe?”

So, after the service I went back to the line for a cot and then decided to release myself into the wild.

I walked 12 miles to the bridge. Oh yes, I knew EXACTLY which bridge I’d sleep under that night.

[I know this is backwards.]

Granny and Paul did give me $100 and I was quite surprised and thankful and that night I slept inside after taking a shower (inside).

The shower I’d had before that was at the mental hospital.. my sixth and most successful visit to the Behavioral Slammer of Mental Justice — most successful because I’d actually escaped… That was my only actual escape from justice.

When I was in the mental slammer in Fargo, North Dakota in 2004 (my second stay in a hospital like that) they actually let me leave the building one day to go get my car. OH YES, my droogies, they let me go to move my car from the motel where I’d tried to kill myself to the hospital (so it wouldn’t be towed away)… And I considered escaping by just not going back… but I didn’t have all my stuff with me… and I didn’t have any money… and the hospital had all the string-cheese I could eat…

So, I got out of the mental hospital stay number 6 (2008) in Tulsa, was driven to a homeless shelter, didn’t stay at the homeless shelter, walked to the bridge, stayed under the bridge, a homeless couple gave me a blanket and a cardboard to sleep on… and an orange… and Danielle gave me $5 and I ate Taco Bueno… and eventually I called my ex’s family.. ended up sleeping inside.. and called my mentor from the motel just before sleeping inside.

My mentor had hired me when I left college because he hired me. Then he hired me when he formed his own company, but I couldn’t hang because I’d done what I was really hired to do… and he wanted me to be the other guy in the company, but I was really bored and I felt bad because I didn’t think I was earning my salary… so I quit that job and gave up the percentage of the company I would have earned by staying with the company.

My mentor kicked ass and actually did better than the gigantic company for which we’d both worked (where he’d hired me after I left school to work for him).

This guy helped me when I was homeless the first time, after I’d spent about three weeks in downtown Tulsa trying to get a job that didn’t involve scraping concrete off of concrete… I pretty much begged for a job cleaning hotel rooms, but that wasn’t happening… because I’d put the address of the homeless shelter on the application. Same thing with everywhere else…

And I didn’t know it wasn’t happening until I met with the owner of a restaurant downtown that was hiring a kitchen hand to prep the food he cooks for lunch — and he told me that he doesn’t like to hire homeless people because every one he’d hired didn’t show up for work after receiving their first check.

So, I assured him that I would show up after I received my first check… and I really am interested in the restaurant business… and I like cooking… and I can use a knife… And I don’t mind cleaning up.

So he said he would call me at the Day Center for the Homeless…

And he didn’t call. So, I called him and he said that he’d decided not to hire me anyway, because my application said I was a computer programmer, and I’d made lots of money, and he was sure that I would just leave anyway, after stabilizing… and, besides, the job was just 20 hours per week at $8 or something… and I wouldn’t be happy where I could live for that little amount of money. And would eventually leave.

OK WHATEVER.

So, I emailed this mentor guy and said I was looking for a job because I was homeless… and he said the company that bought his company, a bank, would never allow him to hire me because of my credit rating… but he would be happy to help me out.

And he did.

So I lived in a motel for a little while. I road the bus to the dry cleaners and had my suit cleaned.. and I was offered a couple of jobs… and my dad was SUPER SUPER nice to give me a ride to work (which was great because the bus would have require leaving like 2 hours before work or something… sort of a hassle.. and sweaty). The ride home on the bus was sorta nice because I didn’t have to be anywhere until the very next morning.

While I was at that job, I saw my former best friend Ky for the last time. We had lunch.

I went a little crazy.

I quit the job.

I had a rather weird conversation with Ky where I unnecessarily flipped out about his use of “we” in a discussion… I really don’t like it when a waitress asks, “How are we doing today?” Anyway…

I spent three weeks not working, just living in the motel.

I went crazier.

I sent an email to the VP-OTUS and called the Secret Service-OTUS…

Two days later there was a knock on the door.

It was two nice police guys.

We decided that I was going with them. (I was encouraged to decide to come along… and I asked, “What if I don’t want to go?” and they looked at each other once and the senior officer said, “Well, we think it would be best if you talked with a doctor.” And I thought it was pretty funny because they both made it perfectly clear I was coming with them… one way or another.. without being mean about it. Which is probably good practice with crazy people… I suspect some people are treated so nicely..)

AND THEN WE WALKED OUTSIDE.

And I counted nine (9) police cars in the parking lot, including the one I rode in… in the front seat. For some reason, when you’re just crazy, you don’t have to ride in the cage.

Oh, you have to wear cuffs… come on… the police aren’t stupid. Crazy people might do crazy things.

OH WAIT!! I did have to ride in the cage when I was in the sheriff’s car in Minnesota while he drove me to Iowa. But, I didn’t have to wear handcuffs.

At the hospital, they were reading my web page… and they’d printed my page.. My web page was one single long page… 11 pages printed.

Since I was crazy at the time, it never occurred a plausible reason for why all this happened… (because I’d demonstrated my insanity to the feds on the phone) so I made up reasons. I won’t bore you any more than I already am.

Ok, so hospital… escape from hospital… taken back to hospital by Broken Arrow police… released from hospital after a stern talking-to by my doctor and the old nurse guy who has retired 4 years before….

“Joe, some people get second chances, and a few get third chances, but no one gets fifth and sixth chances.” TRANSLATION: We know you’re just fucking around.. STOP IT. [And I’ve never been back… in fact, I’ve never been nearly that insane because I stop messing around with my sleep that much when I was using DXM.]

I stopped using DXM a week ago so I could take 5-HTP to produce serotonin without having too much serotonin and dying or worse.

Hospital -> homeless shelter -> bridge -> Danielle -> others -> motel again

I didn’t find a job that time while I was at the motel. (I did apply a few places… including the Coney Islander…)

The day before the last day I would be able to stay in the motel, my computer beeped and it was an email from Alan who’d I not had any contact with for like 20 years or something like that…

WAIT. I’ve been saying it had been like 20 years, but I guess he was one of my customers at Vigoris, which had gone out of business in the summer of 2004.. and now he was emailing me in the spring of 2008.

-> Alan asked what was up… and I told him… and he suggested I come down to Texas where there are lots of jobs.

-> Dad got me a bus ticket.

Interviewed for several programming jobs… Didn’t get one.

Enter Stephanie -> Shawnee -> and that’s enough

I moved to Texas like the day before I was going to be homeless again.

About a week later, I called Danielle to tell her I’d moved to Texas.

Her roommate answered and immediately asked how quickly I could get back to Tulsa because Danielle had been in an accident — she was struck by a car in a car-vs-pedestrian blood-area (a parking lot) and her head hit the pavement. She wasn’t awake yet.

The next time I called, Danielle was awake, but she was having trouble remembering things.

The next time I called, I was able to speak with Danielle, but I don’t think she really remembered me.

Today, she called me.

She said she received my letter today and was a little freaked out because she has just been talking about me this past weekend.

🙂

I left the house today without my vapor nicotine delivery system… on purpose.

I also left the house yesterday without it.

I’ve been reducing the concentration of the nicotine recently. I thought perhaps that would have me using the device more, but actually, I’ve been using the device less. I thought I would buy juice with 0 nicotine in it next time, but now I’m think I might just not buy any more juice.

I think I last smoked cigarettes in December.