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Tuesday, March 30, 2004

FACT: When you are lying in bed and you hear a creepy noise and your lover is sleeping next to you, you are still alone. You are not comforted by the warmth of her body nor the snoring from her nose. You are alone.

Something is living in the wall. A varmint of some sort. Naturally, I have convinced myself it is something cute and harmless, like a squirrel.
Once or twice a week I hear it fidgeting in the ceiling above my head. He's just tucking himself in for the night, I assume. And I think to myself, "Oh, squirrel. Quiet down up there. Me and the girl are trying to sleep. Don't rustle around too long, squirrel."

Until last night, two things happened. 1) I was the only one who heard the fidgeting and 2) it usually lasted no more than a minute or two.
But last night we both heard it, and it continued for an hour or more before I took a shoe to the ceiling. For the first time, it occurred to me that it may not necessarily be a squirrel.
The possibility became apparent immediately after teasing my g.f. by saying something like, "Boy, that sure is a big rat up there." But ended up scaring myself in the process.
Ohmygod! Maybe it IS a big rat up there! Ewwww.....and what if it dies? It won't go off to die like a horse or anything. And then the whole apartment will smell for weeks. I know this from my stint working at a hardware store. People came in all the time wanting to drive out the putrid smell of a rodent who'd expired in the wall or ceiling. This usually only happens when the weather is either extremely cold or extremely hot and shelter is needed. Presently it is neither extremely hot or cold which means....Jesus, what if he's tidying up for his offspring!
I think I'm going to be ill. What am I going to do? We can't call maintenance. They'll scatter some rat-bait around which it will eat and return home and DIE.
Apparently I will have to take matters into my own hands...

Wednesday, March 24, 2004

I've Got a Computer Chip on my Lap.

I received my laptop in the mail. Okay, so I went to the Post Office to pick it up...same thing.

Once at home I freed it from its foam peanuty tomb. It was bundled in a plastic bag tied to another plastic bag containing the power cord etc.
The smell nearly knocked me over. "This guy is a smoker." *Sniff* Not cigarettes...cigars. No-*Sniff*-a pipe." Whatever it is, he smokes the shit out of it and this entire package reeks. Although I do remember thinking how I viewed pipe-smoking as more distinguished than cigarette smoking and decided he took better care of my newly purchased item.
After unwrapping it I realized how heavy it was, something I didn't notice when loading the box into my car. "Man, this thing is heavy." I walked over to my g.f.'s laptop and picked it up. Then I walked back to my computer and picked it up again. "Man, this thing is really heavy."
It is an older computer. Really old. Circa 1996.
Next, I opened it and began searching for the "on" button. Since I've only used one other lap top I naturally searched for a similar shiny silver button in the upper-right corner. Not there. I began depressing anything that resembled the power and finally found it. I pushed it and waited with my breath held. "Is this son-of-a-bitch gonna boot?"
I realized I couldn't expect much considering how much I actually paid for it. But then it began to boot and after a minute Windows 95 glowed proudly. "The son-of-a-bitch works!" Now all I need to do is check the battery to see if it holds a charge, and I'll be in business!
Now where is the battery?...
I searched through the bag of accessories but all I found was a big--"Oh shit. This is the battery. Jesus, it's heavy."
I slid it in the gaping hole in the front left corner of the machine. This added even more weight to the bulky machine. "Dammit! How the hell am I supposed to take this thing anywhere! It weighs more than me, which isn't much, but still!"
An orange light suggested it was charging. "Oh, please let it hold a charge. And stay on more than ten minutes at a time. Thirty. I'll take thirty minutes,even."
After running an errand I returned home to test it. I tugged the power cord and held my breath...again. The orange light turned green. It was holding a charge. In fact, it remained charged for two whole hours. Not bad.
I spent the remainder of the evening locating and then installing software for it. I managed to install versions of Photoshop 5 and WordPerfect 10. Seeing such a sharp-looking program on such a dinosaur is both ironic and pleasing.
The final step was testing the floppy drive and choosing the perfect sticker for the cover. One that says, "This isn't the latest and greatest, it's just straight up old school, yo." My girlfriend was nice enough to supply me with a really nice Obey one.

So if you see that sticker slapped onto a pathetically archaic-looking laptop computer somewhere, that's me. And be assured, it works and wonderful things will be written on it.

Friday, March 19, 2004

“If you had brains you’d be dangerous.”
Words spoken by my father over the years. To me, to others.
To say I do not understand this proclamation is an understatement. I do not understand its meaning. I’ve tried and come up with nothing. It may refer to common sense or a lack thereof. We all make errors in judgment. Lately it's been...

Simple things such as buying Kool-aid and actually mixing it. Worse still, drinking it. Ick.
Bigger things such as bidding on a lap top computer although unemployed…and winning. Shit.
Or impulsively flipping off the light of the room in which my one-year old nephew is standing and immediately hearing him knock into the dresser. Oops.
Wasn’t he supposed to freeze where he was and scream or laugh or something?
God, I love that kid. He’s not talking yet, but yesterday he brought one or more of his shoes to me and said very distinctly, “Shzzz.” And I put them on him and we went outdoors and he mowed the lawn with his little plastic mower and I photographed the sun dancing in his blonde curly hair and watched the sky reflecting in his eyes.
He would stop periodically to dance to the sounds of a passing car stereo or wave at power-walkers. He is young and happy and for now has no understanding of the strange and confused aunt that loves him more than anything.


Thursday, March 18, 2004

Yesterday was sun and walk and coffee shop and photo gallery and walk and book store and walk and cafe and home and car and museum of fine arts and museum of modern arts and junk shop and book store again and home and pizza and salad and a doughnut and nerves and tears and hope and new beginning and sleep.

and tomorrow I may recount today...

Monday, March 15, 2004

The Venue: Grandaddy and three shit bands that sucked.

The Ensemble: Brown corduroy pants, mustard yellow thrift store tee, brown Sketchers, cowboy belt and buckle, baseball cap with fish hook tilted to the left, retro-80’s pins, and retro-Timex watch. S-mooooooth.

The Scenario Upon Entering Concert Theater: Pansy-wussy-bitch-ass takes hold of my right arm and rattles off something about the pins and fish hook.

“You can’t go in with the pins or the fish hook. You’ll have to take them off. There’s a garbage right there.”

“Oh good, I would hate to make the walk back down that one flight of stairs and five cars down to get rid of these. You’re very accommodating, you pansy-pussy-bitch-ass. Why don’t you go fuck yourself while I get sloppy drunk waiting for Grandaddy to come on.”

Five Minutes Later Inside the Concert Theater, minus one fish hook and two retro-80’s pins, less than twelve feet from the entrance: We stand in line to buy four more pins for five dollars. We consider buying two packs and wearing all of them.

Friday, March 12, 2004

After sinking down into the sofa I set the little plate of tuna salad and crackers on my chest. The windows allowed a silhouette of trees from the west. I began reading.
I nibbled at the crackers while finishing the final chapters of my book. I half read and half thought of the watch I had found earlier in the attic. It belonged to my grandpa. The sales receipt was packed away with it. The date was that of my birthday. I felt happy. It was meant to be. Me and the watch. We layed flowers on the graves in the cemetery earlier. Not his. But he wanted me to find the watch anyway.
I will go back and put flowers on his. And I will not dig through the assortment of silk flowers my mother keeps handy. I will go and pick them myself.

Monday, March 08, 2004


Night Deposit

It is nine-thirty and here I sit holding a little tray that looks like something one might be served french fries in at a ballgame or amusement park. I hear sizzling coming from the kitchen. The g.f. is cooking something. It could be beef or chicken or pork chops. It all smells the same on The Foreman. I don't know why that is.
I've requested the T.V. be turned on. I can't concentrate. It's too quiet.
This was supposed to be a one day thing. One plus two. A three day thing. wonderful.
Now the tiny little Baskin Robbins sample spoon to stir and scoop. Tighten the cap and fill in the name and date and time. The humiliation of it all.
But within the hour the hurried steps through the living room brandishing the evidence like a child before tucking it away in it's special box.
Tomorrow the process starts again.

Thursday, March 04, 2004

My mom called today to wish me a happy birthday and was all like, "Did you get your poop test in the mail yet?" (Except she didn't refer to it as a poop test.) "Have you sent it off yet?"
And I was all "Yes, it came yesterday. But I think I will wait until Friday to send it off."
I don't care if my dad got his teeth cleaned on his birthday, I'm not poopin' in a cup on mine.

So anyway this weird ice cream truck came strolling down our street earlier. It was white and grubby and written on the side in black stenciled lettering was, All MY CHILDREN. And there were bars over the passenger side window. What the FUCK? I wouldn't let my kid go near that van.

Wednesday, March 03, 2004

JUST some FACTS...

1. No matter what a website promises, there is no such thing as free porn. Unless you download it from a file sharing program.

2. Do not pick your nose after cutting a jalapeno. Just don't pick your nose at all.

3. Tomorrow is my birthday. A nice gift would be some Polaroid i-Zone film.

4. I have delusions my hair is starting to look like Yoanna's from America's Top Model, except not really and only when I have it pushed behind my elf ears.

5. My girlfriend thinks I have elf ears.

6. This website is fucking rad.

7. I really should change this shitty font.



Monday, March 01, 2004

NOT (necessarily) CONVERSATIONS I'VE HAD RECENTLY

At Whole Foods
"How much is this vanilla bean, please?"
"They are two-hundred, ninety-nine dollars a pound."
"I don't need a pound...just the one vanilla bean, please."
"Okay. I'll need a minute to work out the math on that."
"Indeed."

With my Mother
"You know Mom, you are always complaining that I never call yet in every instance, you have let me go first and with the excuse you need to go to the bathroom. It's the same with Dad."

"Let me let you go, I need to run to the bathroom."

"By all means...do that."


With my Brother
"So what has the most wonderful and adorable little one-year-old in the world been up to?"

"His french fries blew off the bleachers the other night and he then went around begging all of the mothers for more."

"What? No he didn't. He can't even talk."

"He did. A dog can not talk yet he begs."

"Are you comparing my nephew to a dog?"

"Are you accusing me of comparing my son to a dog?"

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