www.ayokasystems.com

Checkin’ in…

Having cut off communication with my healthcare providers, I feel more in control, rejuvenated, not depressed. I think I need a break from all the bureaucracy, unprofessionalism and lack of common courtesy the health care industry is in bountiful supply.

Seriously, think about it as a relationship…would you have a relationship with someone that did not have any respect for you? I think not! And if you did, WAKE UP HUMAN!

The Bottom Line: It’s MY health! I care. If the health care industry cared they would not aggravate this ill person more.

DaNell Daymon and The Greater Works Gospel Choir

DaNell Daymon & Greater Works Gospel Choir

I just saw their semi-final performance on America’s Got Talent and I this is the closest I have come to have a complete breakdown and just crying my eyes out, which is probably what I need most.

DaNell shared his desperation; I can identify with that. What I can’t identify with is my reason for being created, here. He says that one must/just believe in yourself. My immediate reaction is that I don’t think I was taught that growing up. I know I was always told how smart I was, how handsome I was, how intelligent I was…I never believed it because my life experiences never matched or made sense to me. If I was so handsome, why did I never have/secure a companion? If I was so smart, why was I not able to earn as much money as my colleagues – in reality, I never have been motivated by money.

Anyway, I would love to see the choir perform in their own show in Vegas. It might be worth the $s to go; I would be crying during the whole performance, loving it! Their performances move me.

 

93°F In Culver City

93°F In Culver City

I awoke this morning to do some work before an 8:30 a.m. appointment.

I was called in at 8:34 a.m. for vitals at Venice Family Clinic.

I had a very thorough examination by my doctor, albeit beginning late at  8:50 a.m.

I had been experiencing a shortness of breath and pain in the middle of my chest since I switched from duloxetine(?) to viibrid(?) – which I learned today would not improve my impotence. The doc felt that the impotence was due to diabetes. Of course, being a government recipient, an Rx for viagra is out of the question. Strike 1 *

OMG! I just thought of something funny 😀

The doctor orders an EKG. Based on the EKG, she suggests I go to the emergency room for suspicious coronary event. I hesitate, but under threat of calling the paramedics – which would not be all bad, if you get my meaning – I comply and mother drives me to Marina del Rey Hospital.

Strike 2 was the third patient in triage: I find it the rudest and such a lack of boundaries when another patient is playing audio at a volume as to invade the person sitting right next you. By this time I had not eaten, nor had a stroke or heart attack, so I was getting uncomfortable, impatient and irritable. Fortunately, mom brought me something to eat. Finally, the Dr, Kay(?) came in and suggested overnight hospitalization for good measure due to enlarged heart. Additionally, due to my government coverage I would have to be transferred to another hospital. Fine. Let me get the hell out of here and get my ass over there because I can get over there faster than it takes you to even inform me of what’s going on, inflammation of my legs and feet very apparent.

Oh, and by the way, how fucking pretentious are you that you have a scribe who is violating my health care privacy by actually viewing me. If she can afford $20 lunches – overheard – why can’t she afford a dictaphone and learn to use it?

I get to Southern California Hospital, Culver City. I am super calm, but direct because I feel that half my day has already been wasted going from one medical institution to another. I relate what has already transpired and inquire politely if she has any idea how long it would take to get admitted. She turns to Dr. Bitch – I can see and actually hear through the six inch bulletproof shield, which, thankfully for them is there and that I am one fucking angry pacifist – relays my story and without even looking at the documentation I had brought, says “I am busy right now.”  <The Truth**> The admissions clerk – I think it’s the same lady I complained about before – turns to me and says she can’t be definite. Thank you, have a nice day.

I decide to take the bus to the dispensary my psychologist had referred to me. As I am walking to the bus, I have another stroke…

It just occurs to me, that I am pretty sure that I justifying my desire to just go the fuck home already – if I am going to fucking die, I’d rather die at home than in some incompetent, unprofessional hospital.

…Dr. Bitch didn’t even look at my paperwork and I had expressly stated that this was a matter of a coronary issue. At the time, I became incensed. I march back to the hospital and ask the name of the doctor? nurse? tech? who’s name I will include in a strongly worded letter to Southern California Hospital, Culver City. The admissions clerk turns to the girl and informs her “That guy would like to speak to you,” which is a fucking lie; I only asked her name; I did not specify why. A guy steps in – green shirt with horizontal blue stripes, trying to assist – or nosey? This is when she says “I am busy.”

Fuming, I walk across the street – again with shortness of breath and chest pain. After Lobo, Patient Relations, whom I had been talking to on the phone while the three stooges were trying to get Dr. Bitch’s name, had told me he would look into it and get back to me.

Look into  what? Bring your fucking ass down her so I can’t point the culprits out! Just WHOM are you going to look into without a name or identification. And that’s exactly what I did when he finally came down from his air-conditioned office to find out why I was in the building. And I will point out, it was no minor feat wiht Reese(sp?), the security guard, choosing to argue over Lobo’s gender – I had thought I had been speaking to a woman. – translate that Spanish IV! 😀

I am tired and high and forgetting, let me wind this shit up!

When we get back to the emergency room, the window is shut. There is no way to ID anyone. Okay, that’s the way you want to play it. Give me Tony Desai (sp?), supposedly the top dog. Left message on voice mail.

On the bus, still fuming, call Tony back and leave another voice mail, this time using derogatory terms when referring to Dr. Bitch and demanding a list of all employees working in the emergency room @ 1:25 pm on September 1, 2017, which I will forward to my lawyer, and threatening this ain’t over.

Tell me the truth!

Am I wrong?

I’ll admit, I should not have used derogatory terms in my last voice mail, but considering my measured temperament – compared to how early I would have erupted previously – I may have been a little arrogant to expect IMMEDIATE attention, but I did not argue, I left willingly, no fuss.

WHAT THE FUCK DID SHE DO THAT ANGERED ME SO FRIKKIN’ MUCH?

I need another joint.

Good night!

I just know I’m forgetting somethign. 😀

* …o was it Stroke 1?
* As I write this, I can’t remember what specific action by her incensed me, but if you’re still reading, you’ll see just what kind of Dr. she is.

Capitalism Isn't Working Another World Is Possible

Why I Detest Capitalism

Of course, it started in the home, though I had no idea of what capitalism was at the time. The earliest indication would’ve been my mother’s compulsive shopping, which now encompasses every closet in the house, four! Even today she’s the first to claim she has been cured through anonymous programs, and justifies this cure by shopping at yard sales for things she has no room/need for in her life.

As for me, I have been identified as spoiled. I am the oldest, so it makes sense, and as I sit here and type this post fifty-four years old, I have to admit that I am spoiled. I don’t like it and after fifty-four years have somehow come to despise wealth and celebrity. Millions of dollars as a salary is exorbitant; people with wealth are afforded opportunities: the perfect example would be Chris Brown; found guilty of FELONY assault and given a second chance by – albeit stupid – society; me FELON who could not secure employment for over 13 years!

Anyway, my contempt for capitalism increased with age, as I saw how it corrupts everything it touches. I live in Los Angeles County and collect Supplemental Security Income due to medical complications which preclude me from working. At $895/mo, I can’t even afford housing and remain , technically, homeless. And get this, I have been paying $200/mo for 10 years (approximately $31K over 13 years) to in a garage next door to my parents, who are also my landlords. Today, their preparation of the house in front really got to me and I viewed it as the tenants paying $3000/mo get favored just because they pay more. My garage could use some improvements, but once again, being poor equals no matter.

Even today, my mother is the first to be asking for money all the time. I know I owe her, I know where she lives, I even give financial updates, yet I feel harassed over money all the time. I pray for the day I am done paying her back and in the meantime, I take nothing from them. This combined with my guilty conscience from being a drug addict for so long, have taught me to hard on myself and to live and ascetic life. I know from personal experience that when I had the least, I was the happiest. I try to live in the vein and pray every day for Wall Street to crumble to the ground, along with the one percent.

Me

My Shame

This is my secret shame for 54 years…No Penis!

My Penis

Apparently, due to obesity, which has been my companion for 54 years. Seriously, it looks like a vagina with testicles! Doesn’t matter much cause I can barely reach it to pleasure even myself, as much as anyone else. So no matter what I am male? Female? Hermaphrodite? it doesn’t even matter now.

Because of this non-existent penis, I have always been ashamed of my own body, preferring to have sex only in the dark, remaining clothed while I serviced other men/boys. And to make matters worse, I can’t even get an erection anymore – due to diabetes? High blood pressure? Low blood pressure? Weight? I am trying to find out now through my doctor(s).

So more history on how I got so fucked up in the head…

As a school youth, I avoided showering after gym to avoid unnecessary ridicule; I was already being called “gay” and “faggot.” When I started having sex, it was mostly anonymous as a result of being high/drunk – on the beach, cruising; guys I picked up in the bar for one night stands, etc. – so there was not much concern back then, plus I had the advantage of once being aroused, able to get an erection. The detriment I carried forward was the anonymity and the addiction.

I was fortunate once, to encounter Charlie, who taught me there were people that enjoyed big guys and taught me to appreciate and probably even love myself for a short time. Once Charlie and I separated, I returned to what I knew, two-fold.

Today, unable to get an erection, I can’t even act out sexually, when the pressure gets too much, as it must involve drugs. I know because I tried at great risk to myself. I hired a prostitute, who supplied crystal meth and GHB. While he went out to secure a second guy, I was on the phone with a fourth guy. Guy four came while guy two was gone, but I could not go through with it. WTF!? Guy two returned solo, which was probably best, but still the night cost me about $500 and I still was unsatisfied.

I am honest and open about my thoughts and actions with my psychologist and psychiatrist, who have taught me one thing that has really rocked my world. When I introduced the idea that I feel female/male it was suggested that my male persona/half allowed my female persona/half to be abused sexually…Hunger/Fury. Even during my last escapade, I was oblivious to what I was doing and feel that it was grace that prevented me from going further.

Once I get the erection thing solved, I plan on advertising my fat old self to chasers who will appreciate a big guy.

US News

All I Need To Know About Charlottesville

…defined in one image.

MY Truth

MY Opinion

  • sad to see humanity reduced to savagery
  • confused regarding correlation between collateral damage and hero

I was going to post this on my personal social media account, but had second thoughts and thought it better to post here.

Reason?

No one comments here!

laughter applause laughter applause laughter applause crickets crickets crickets

Nothing Is Ever Simple

Nothing Is Ever Simple…

…in my family.

Mom just asked me to move a couch into the rental property, in the car, on the way home from the nursing appointment.

My immediate reply is “no” because I am sore all over my shoulders and back.

Then I start building up my arsenal of additional excuses not to help: poor old dad, parents are comfortable enough to hire people to do physical labor; I am not moving in; I am not making anything from this venture.

I am not making up excuses, I am being honest. Seems harsh, but I believe direct honesty is much more efficient.

So far there have been no repercussions, but I know better. One day it will come back to bite me. I can hear it now…”I don’t know why he is the way he is, we give him rides to all his doctor’s appointments and he can’t help us move a couch!” Actually, this serves as an excellent reminder to find out about patient transportation from my healthcare network.

Check
Bad Sex

My Unattractiveness Reaches Psychic Proportions

I had begrudgingly set up a date with Pierre the Prostitute – begrudgingly because I believe paying to be the one to do all the work (a blowjob). Especially, in this humidity with no air conditioning!? Got a bad vibe due to non-communication, his price was higher than normal, and we were going to blow clouds so I started looking for someone else.

Next was Darrius, who only liked pot. So being the people pleaser I am, I was off to the dispensary. It’s as if he was psychic – in my mind, at least – when I got the call from him – on the way to the dispensary, after worrying about time because my cousin that was going to ride me made me wait – that he was cancelling on me! WTF!?

I was dejected; my cousin noticed my change in mood and inquired. I had not been truthful to her about paying for sex so I remained silent.

So with a bag of weed, I went home and started looking again when I felt the green fuzzies. I could not find anyone that sounded like someone I might enjoy for the $120 in my pocket. Frustrated, I used the ads as porn, I actually watched 1.5 porn movie. I got very high and very sexually enticed and then went to bed and fantasized in my head of two daddies. How might they react to each other? With my luck, they’d be so turned of by each other, I would be Charlie Brown once again.

WHY AM I EVEN SO HELL BENT ON GETTING SEXED?

I am sex addict and the pot is not working as much anymore so now I seek out sex as a means to act out. I have ALWAYS associated drugs with sex; they enabled my male persona to condone the raping of my female persona. There are other factors: HIV+; Herpes; Cancer; my diabetes medication gives me cotton mouth 24/7; impotence; and my apparently morbid obesity.

On my side of the board I believe in paying for love is acceptable and should be an option for all of society. My biggest obstacle in attracting men is the men that I am attracted to: skinny to muscly men with big daddy dick! Sorry, getting excited, but no worry, the little guy asleep, motionless. Ha! So far, of the four men I have encountered, the first was the best; my success rate: 25%. Not too good. Further discouragement: I removed my anti-depressant from my medication regime, discovering that it was a cock-blocker – still nothing.

Oh, and then there a jealous child, Mojo.

 

Crying My Eyes Out

Feeling!!!!!!!!!!!

OMG! I was just thinking that I had better start planning…

I ran over to my computer and then started calculating and all of a sudden it came like a swell in the ocean from a tropical storm off shore…

I realized I am beginning to feel again. Anger at my state and federal governments; anticipation of a future event; realization that for the second time in my life that I can just live; that I have more energy, less pain; my spirit is reawakening.

And as I say that, I am feeling imaginary? miniscule gurgles under my right moob. To be fair, I think my venis (new word coined by me on this day in Los Angeles, California, United States of America this twenty-seventh day of July in the year two thousand seventeen) moved!