5-1-99 Sa 2:24 PM
I'd rather fake my own death than go through with the rest of this move. Whatever. We're at The Bounty to watch the Kentucky Derby before we move Thing's crap up to his place in the Gaylord.
5-2-99 10:05 PM Sun.
I'm in "the office." It's more like a cubby hole. I better write small in here. It's a room at the back of the new house that can only be reached by passing through the only bedroom. Six eight-paned windows looking upon the fig tree in the backyard can swing open all along one wall and around the corner of another. They're all covered with bars. The one I'm looking through now is covered with an iron mesh. It doesn't exactly send your spirit soaring. I say new house, but this place was built at least fifty years ago. The CD/ROM drive on my new computer has gone on the blink since the move. My desk got thrashed. Ugh. I haven't found my Bible yet. I've got to get cable. This place is jumbled with boxes. I have to call Idaho. A sharp pain nags at my left ear. When am I going to be straightened out? The water pressure in the shower sucks. I couldn't get the HOT and COLD balanced into any kind of decent temperature. We've got to get nails. I haven't read the newspaper nor any Nin today. This room seems to have been added onto the original floorplan. It used to have windows on three sides, but those on the north side were boarded up and painted over when the place was converted into a duplex, it would seem. 10:33 I'm lying in bed now. Thomas Hart Benton's depiction of Vivian Leigh's erect nipples stare at me from the wall facing the foot of my bed. I'm lying on my back. The wall to my left is blank, as is the one above my head. Just to the left of the head of the bed is the closet. It's about six feet deep. I put six nails in the wall in there to hang my ties. We put the beat-up old dresser I've had since Cerritos in there. The face of one of the drawers is missing off it. Shirelle neatly arranged my shoes in a row on the floor and in a foot locker in there. I need to throw some of those old shoes away and get some new ones. And maybe a new tv. And a coffee table. How's it work when you sell a house? Did Marinez get $285,000? Did he own it outright, free and clear of the bank? Or did he still have mortgage payments? I have to figure out how that shit works.
I'd rather fake my own death than go through with the rest of this move. Whatever. We're at The Bounty to watch the Kentucky Derby before we move Thing's crap up to his place in the Gaylord.
5-2-99 10:05 PM Sun.
I'm in "the office." It's more like a cubby hole. I better write small in here. It's a room at the back of the new house that can only be reached by passing through the only bedroom. Six eight-paned windows looking upon the fig tree in the backyard can swing open all along one wall and around the corner of another. They're all covered with bars. The one I'm looking through now is covered with an iron mesh. It doesn't exactly send your spirit soaring. I say new house, but this place was built at least fifty years ago. The CD/ROM drive on my new computer has gone on the blink since the move. My desk got thrashed. Ugh. I haven't found my Bible yet. I've got to get cable. This place is jumbled with boxes. I have to call Idaho. A sharp pain nags at my left ear. When am I going to be straightened out? The water pressure in the shower sucks. I couldn't get the HOT and COLD balanced into any kind of decent temperature. We've got to get nails. I haven't read the newspaper nor any Nin today. This room seems to have been added onto the original floorplan. It used to have windows on three sides, but those on the north side were boarded up and painted over when the place was converted into a duplex, it would seem. 10:33 I'm lying in bed now. Thomas Hart Benton's depiction of Vivian Leigh's erect nipples stare at me from the wall facing the foot of my bed. I'm lying on my back. The wall to my left is blank, as is the one above my head. Just to the left of the head of the bed is the closet. It's about six feet deep. I put six nails in the wall in there to hang my ties. We put the beat-up old dresser I've had since Cerritos in there. The face of one of the drawers is missing off it. Shirelle neatly arranged my shoes in a row on the floor and in a foot locker in there. I need to throw some of those old shoes away and get some new ones. And maybe a new tv. And a coffee table. How's it work when you sell a house? Did Marinez get $285,000? Did he own it outright, free and clear of the bank? Or did he still have mortgage payments? I have to figure out how that shit works.
posted by johnz at 5:26 PM
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