Today Jen and I went to the Laundromat.
What fun. The last time we went to this particular place there was a mother with her little son there. Now when I say brat, I mean it, because when apart from when I'm being lazy and saying stupid things like all conservative people are evil, I don't generalize.
This kid was screaming at his mother for quarters for the pin ball machine, harassing her constantly for a soda and then candy and generally making his presence so known by his constant monologue of high pitched whining that the only other thing he could have done to annoy me more would have been to steal my laundry bags and throw all of the clean clothes in the street.
He wasn't there today, but a young guy who insisted on sitting next to me outside the 'mat while I smoked a cigarette bugged me.
Of course he asked for a cigarette. Of course he told me about the night before while he was in Boston and he was chased down the street by a guy with a knife, and how he somehow jumped in a moving cab. He asked me if I knew of any rooms to rent and said, "..there's a lot of heroin junkies in this city, isn't there?"
"I wouldn't know..."
His girlfriend came by to get him a few minutes later and I'm still wondering where she was while he was throwing him self in a cab rolling down the street. I also wonder how he got the door open too.
People are strange.
�
Last night I went over my friend Chris's house and learned how to play Cribbage.
Don't only old ladies play Cribbage? If you know, sign the guestbook. I'd like to find this out because if only old ladies play then I'm going to make it my new obsession because lately my life has turned incredibly boring and people commenting to me -
"Cribbage, What are you an old lady?"
- would really add that extra bit of excitement I need.
�
I might be moving at the beginning of October. It's a great apartment with it's own washer and dryer.
The other day the management finally fessed up and admitted the 2 bedroom apartments and townhouses we're on the waiting list for are nothing more than figments of this complex�s collective imagination.
IT WAS ALL A SCAM DESIGNED TO MAKE ME LIVE IN A 1 BEDROOM PLACE WITH NO WINDOWS!!!
It�s an experiment to see how long my sanity can last while living in a box. Actually, didn�t they do that in 1950�s prisons?
"Oh please Mr. guard man, I won�t try to kiss you again, just let me out of the box"
They said there's no chance a place will open up until next June now, so screw em. We're out of here.
I'm moving next to the street about which I wrote that "Thayer Street Blues" poem. It's recorded with great music behind it and if you're really interested search the archives for it. Yeah right, as if anyone's going to do that.
Still, I can't wait to chuck a colloquial bird at this entire complex.
�
Did I mention the fuckers that used to throw my stuff in the river are still at it?
Yep.
They now are throwing rocks at my plants and at my windows. Someone is also still trying to kill me 25 years from now by leaving me a fresh pack of cigarettes every couple of days.
Lately they've left 2 packs of Marlboro Red 100's, a pack of regular Winston's, and just last night a pack Menthol Kool's.
I mean what the hell?
It's really bothering me.
WHAT IS THE EXACT POINT?
�
Oh well, that's about it. Time to go fold.
