jack_babalon | Another Friday morning in Atlanta

"C'mon man it ain't rocket science..."

I woke this morning to the sound of the neighbor shouting, her small rat like dog barking, a truck beeping right outise my window, the hall door smashing open in five minute intervals & apparently what sounded like a team of monkeys disassembling an entertainment center with pipewrenches. Normally this would piss me off but since I woke up three hours late I was forced to admit this as the work of some devine providence. I looked up at the ceiling, behind which, I presumed from countless scenes on TV, lurked said devine providence. I shrugged helplessly from my bed and implored the old unmoveable mover for five more minutes. I took the silence that followed as a 'yes' rather than further proof that there's 'no one running the shop' up in heaven.

While waiting on the platform for the NorthSprings train, I learned that "Jake" got shot last week, by his Mother-in-law all over some "Dumb bullshit" apparently. He actually died at Grady Hospital, but despite it being Grady, was brought back to life. "Jake" despite being technically murdered by his Mother-in-law, didn't press charges and is still living with her and his daughter. No word on Mom. Who's "Jake"? Beats me, this was a conversation two guys were having from across the valley of parallel tracks running between them at the North Avenue Station. They just shouted all this back and forth while I tried to scribble their dialouge on the back off a bus schedule.

The trains are a different world after 9am. The mobs of suits & uniforms has dwindled into stragglers. Art students with their large portfolio cases, mock 80s hair cuts, stroking their training stubble or snapping bubble gum eyes vacantly out the window. There's also the Sleeping Tribe, the car I was in had at least four guys laid out across the seats snoozing hardcore, one guy had a faded, (I-shit-you-not-here), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle blanket draped over him and oddly had a reek of candles about him that I could pick up from two rows down. One old guy kept popping awake with a startled whenever the train stopped and the doors swooshed open. He'd look around and the coast clear of whatever it was he was on the look out for he slips back to sleep. I contemplate slipping down to my boxers and joining in. Just call out sick... permanently: "Sorry I've found GOD and she don't work in a cube!". Abandon the apartment, abandon everyone, abandon myself and abandon ship! Godammerung- it's every man for himself as America takes a one way ride down the shit slide to hell! Years and years later I will be found wandering around the "NO-GO" sections of Neo-Terminus, begging for spare change & babbling about how I used to be a writer once, before the robots rose up and began blogging on the internet, making human posts obsolete:
Dear Journal,
It looks like my new Lipservice Titanium Corset frame finally came in as well as my infrared optic upgrades- just in time for the NIN 50th anniversary reunion tour. The band has done much better since Trent downloaded his consciousness into a Sony Sentinent Nano-Swarm. Still don't like the new CD though. In other news Whipbotv.3 and I are meeting for oil & conversation exchange at the HIGHLANDER tonight. Then Deathborg2323 and I plan on a casual evening mowing down a few human survivors.
Mood: Kill the humans
Music:Assemblage 23- Please don't kill us Deathborg overlords

Well probably not. I'll just keep my clothes on. Get into work. Drink bad coffee and finish my Firefly slash-fiction piece on break...
Kaylee blushed with a nervous excitement as Inara wordlessly slipped her kimono off her shoulders. Inara smiled warmly, admiring the supple breasts of her comrade even as she tried to remind herself of her vow to never sleep with a member of the ship. But now it was Kaylee's turn to smile as Inara took her by the hand and led her to the bed...