10-2-01 8:40 PM Tu

I suppose writing on the porch counts for being out somewhere. Though, it makes changing my clothes pointless. Crickets and dogs live in this world. I was supposed to go to work (I couldn’t even remember the word at first), but I didn’t. Rochelle and Ada are at my mom’s. I thought of writing to my brother advising him to change his tone and watch his grammar. The pent went dead. I sharpened a pencil earlier, but this one is dull. I’d still be at work. I don’t want to tell Rochelle I cut class. Worse, I made up a story about my father-in-law being in the hospital. The phone rings. I didn’t answer it. It’s my mom, but I’m not supposed to be here. She leaves a message. “My girls” are on their way home. Sounds like my sister cut my wife’s hair. I think she was foretelling me, too, as if it is important I say I like it. She’ll be wondering why I’ve changed my clothes. I should have gotten some exercise. I’m back inside now. I put my bike in the back. Rochelle is home now. She was telling me how our lifestyle is going to change when we have a house payment, like maybe I hadn’t thought of it. We’re going to watch “Metropolis.” I’ve never seen it. Say it’s about no place. The heads need to be cleaned on the VCR. The NHL starts tomorrow. Sovereignty is an outdated concept. It should be abandoned in the name of world democracy. I want to get back my copy of “The Phantom Menace.” I’m thirsty. The dog’s farts are terrorist attacks. I ate chicken wings and pasta alfredo and one slice of pizza.  10-3-01 W 10:20 Am A day later and still I can’t finish this. I realize that I am cynical and easily annoyed and that these are flaws in my character. The alarm goes off with the news each morning. Terrorism greets each day. I should switch it to music. If I finish this page before Judgement Day, I’ll read another twenty-five pages of Chesapeake. I’m having pizza for brunch. Rochelle has class this afternoon. The baby and I were howling at each other this morning. It was fun. I wish I had a glass of milk.