In which several threads that have been tangled about Ouroboros are brought together, and the frayed knot that results is set aflame.
I spoke with my father yesterday morning. He went and got a crew cut this weekend. He will begin chemotherapy for the cancerous tumor in his abdomen today. He says he feels like the luckiest man alive that this cancer was identified before it spread.
Went over to Endgame mid-day yesterday. The store is looking pretty good. Aaron has got the new Games Workshop line Inquisitor. The miniatures look good, but the game itself seems a little flimsy.
For some reason, a film crew with star trailers was out on the main street by my house yesterday during rush hour. They were set up in front of a corner store of little note. I have no idea what they were filming, but they cut a heavily trafficked two-lane street down to a single lane and inconvenienced many commuters. I noticed, though, that the couch that had formerly graced my porch and which we exchanged for a different one on the street had not picked up on bulk trash day.
Yesterday afternoon I came home from Endgame and sat down to talk to R about his pilsner that seems to have a stuck fermentation. So R and I finish our discussion, which amounts to “can’t tell until we taste it”.
N, the Problem housemate sits on the couch and asks, “I think that I will not be going to Singapore. Would it be a problem if I stayed here until I get my head together?”
I cannot say yes, even though she has put on her innocent act. Am I to understand “get my head together” as “deal with a psychological issue”? Is there to be a set time period for this? Wait, N has gone and accosted me with this question in the presence of R in order to influence my response. I want to say “yes, it would be alright” because I want to spare R the confrontation of this issue. I hate myself right now, but this is what I say: “N, I thought that your job in Singapore would be a positive experience for your career and a graceful solution to an ongoing problem in this house that concerns you. I had been told that this is something that you and M talked about last night.”
At this, R is incredulous that there is any sort of long standing issue that he has not noticed, and all the more so because he and N are fairly close. How am I supposed to tell him that N is a manipulative bitch and has dominated M for the past two years? Well, I am not going to tell R while N sits there, that was the point of N asking me at this time, wasn’t it? “R, you and I must talk about this.”
”Later?” asks R. Something in him is broken. “Tomorrow night maybe?”
Last night a friend threw a barbecue. Korean barbecue, which, for those of you who have not had the pleasure, is grilled marinated short ribs (beef). I brought over the last four bottles of my clove cinnamon wheat ale, most of the asian americans of korean descent thought that it tasted like a dessert. I finally realized that Korean meals traditionally end with a cinnamon tea.
According to my gf, I loudly announced “Hong Kong” in the middle of the night. Asia is on my mind, I guess: violence in Nepal, Korean food, lack of a film history instructor at Singapore University.
This evening I will have that talk with R. All day I have been taking notes. I would almost rather back down.
Names have been changed to protect the innocent and the guilty.