The Longest Night of the Year
12-22-96 Sunday
It's six thirty in the morning. It's dark and raining outside. There is not even a hint in the east that the sun will ever come up, but then this is the longest night of the year.
Someone gets butt-screwed as much as Zelin probably does have to be careful about what she eats. She told me she was hungry, but she turned down a sandwich and a bowl of Shirelle's gumbo.
I got an A in my Intro to Fiction class with Rob Roberge. I fixed the furnace last night. I helped Carlin move in. I must write those letters today. A light blue hole just ripped open in the clouds, and below the cloudline, the horizon is blue and rose as suddenly as if someone had flipped a switch. I fell asleep during "It's a Wonderful Life".
When we left Bob's Frolic Room II, she had wanted to wait until dusk. She pleaded with me not to leave until dusk. I hung on the parking meter on the sidewalk in the ungoldening twilight.
I keep looking out the window and thinking about what to write my dad and his wife. I keep thinking of snide comments like does the swastika fly above or below the stars and stripes in Hayden? Is everybody white or do they keep a gang of Mexicans under lock and key to do the dirty work? Should I tell them about my DUI? I hope this storm blows through so I can work on my car today. I've got Bible pages to read and the Sunday entry and the fifteen minutes to do today. Monday I'll take that paperwork down to Santa Monica and then the court.
When Armenian-Russian George was driving us around in the van to remove graffitti, he spotted an ice cream truck and said, "I know that guy." He made a u-turn and flagged the guy down and bought everyone ice cream. There is a preacher on TV discussing Samuel 30:06. That's close to where I am. He's talking about heeding your mouth. His name is Crenflo Dollar. I'll go to Staples today. "If there is no God, then everything is permitted." Dostoevsky. There's a half full bottle of wine in the kitchen. I'm at my desk now. "Good Morning America" is on. Thing's flipping through the entertainment section of the Sunday paper. I hear him shake his carton of orange juice. Shirelle is in bed cutting the longest farts I've ever heard a woman make. I should put on some socks. Thing is brewing a coffee in the coffee maker I gave him for Christmas. Mr. Martinez installed the pane of glass on the window that was broken on the front of the house. It was a flaw that gave the house a measure of character like a scar over the eye or the gap in my teeth. I don't have to set my alarm for fifteen days. Now I'll type for fifteen minutes.
It's six thirty in the morning. It's dark and raining outside. There is not even a hint in the east that the sun will ever come up, but then this is the longest night of the year.
Someone gets butt-screwed as much as Zelin probably does have to be careful about what she eats. She told me she was hungry, but she turned down a sandwich and a bowl of Shirelle's gumbo.
I got an A in my Intro to Fiction class with Rob Roberge. I fixed the furnace last night. I helped Carlin move in. I must write those letters today. A light blue hole just ripped open in the clouds, and below the cloudline, the horizon is blue and rose as suddenly as if someone had flipped a switch. I fell asleep during "It's a Wonderful Life".
When we left Bob's Frolic Room II, she had wanted to wait until dusk. She pleaded with me not to leave until dusk. I hung on the parking meter on the sidewalk in the ungoldening twilight.
I keep looking out the window and thinking about what to write my dad and his wife. I keep thinking of snide comments like does the swastika fly above or below the stars and stripes in Hayden? Is everybody white or do they keep a gang of Mexicans under lock and key to do the dirty work? Should I tell them about my DUI? I hope this storm blows through so I can work on my car today. I've got Bible pages to read and the Sunday entry and the fifteen minutes to do today. Monday I'll take that paperwork down to Santa Monica and then the court.
When Armenian-Russian George was driving us around in the van to remove graffitti, he spotted an ice cream truck and said, "I know that guy." He made a u-turn and flagged the guy down and bought everyone ice cream. There is a preacher on TV discussing Samuel 30:06. That's close to where I am. He's talking about heeding your mouth. His name is Crenflo Dollar. I'll go to Staples today. "If there is no God, then everything is permitted." Dostoevsky. There's a half full bottle of wine in the kitchen. I'm at my desk now. "Good Morning America" is on. Thing's flipping through the entertainment section of the Sunday paper. I hear him shake his carton of orange juice. Shirelle is in bed cutting the longest farts I've ever heard a woman make. I should put on some socks. Thing is brewing a coffee in the coffee maker I gave him for Christmas. Mr. Martinez installed the pane of glass on the window that was broken on the front of the house. It was a flaw that gave the house a measure of character like a scar over the eye or the gap in my teeth. I don't have to set my alarm for fifteen days. Now I'll type for fifteen minutes.
posted by johnz at 8:18 PM
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