I have been drinking too much tea. I have been hiding the world with me, if you are looking for it. I was coordinating the making of many mix tapes with the sweeping of hair from different rooms. All day I have been aware that what I am missing to get the jobs done right is paper towels. I can't Windex the mirror, can't rid the counter of
stray hairs, can rightfully draw grease away from the
bacon in the morning. All my smoker's candles are almost gone, but I think I have enough change to get another pack.
I still do not know how to manage the thermostat. Last night I slept in the living room because I am afraid of the dark. I watched The Gods Must Be Crazy, and I agreed that love cannot come so easily. Silly as it is, I cannot seem to let myself deserve a day and a night without having to do anything (yet I did do things: bought gas, got the paper, bought groceries, got my nails done). I scanned the classifieds and there are no jobs. Nothing I can do on the side for extra money. Mike gave me two canisters of tea bags which are round and tagless, and I can't stop drinking them. I don't have the time to think about all the things I didn't do five years ago; I can only think about all the things I haven't done this week.
Talked to Jake last night, who is divorcing an old college friend of mine. He sounds just like my brother, and I love him for it, for being so level headed. He tells me KC went through 3 bottles of Southern Comfort in a week, hopes it's just a phase. Her mother called from New York, tried to talk him into staying with KC, mentioning a trust fund. I can't imagine. He called me so he could smoke outside and continue our online conversation. I could hear little Zoe giving him play doctor shots and Henry prepping for a bath. He plays in a band, and apparently, he learned, when bikers like you, they rev their engines. One guy road through a hall where a fireman's benefit was being held (a gig Jake was playing at) on his motorcycle, drove it onstage where the band was and revved his engine.
Today I have to get Sheri's vacuum back to her; I've had it for a week now. I don't own a vacuum; when we were next door neighbors we shared hers. I don't have a microwave. Frying things to heat them up is so silly. I made jambalaya and had to fry the leftovers. I watched SNL last night and it wasn't funny. It doesn't give me much hope for humor. Steve Martin has a new book out that I'd like to read.
One guy called me yesterday, waking me from an afternoon nap. The caller ID said Domino Sugar. He said he was paged with this number, and I said he was wrong. He asked my name and I told him it was Laura. He asked if I was black or white and I told him I was not talking any further with a total stranger. He asked, "You actin' like I'm some sort of criminal er sumpthin'" and what I thought was you made that assumption, not me but all I thought to say was "No, I just don't know you." He asked my last name and I told him that this conversation was over.
I watched this show calle Cheaters last night; it comes on around midnight. It's like Cops and The Real World rolled together. People who suspect their lovers/spouses are cheating can hire this team to spy on them, then confront them on TV if they're guilty. One man was a 60 something truck driver and his 4o something girlfriend was having men coming in and out of the hotel room they were living in all hours of the night. They even got a camera in the room to catch her fucking another guy. She looked like she was on drugs. He walked in on her at the hotel with a guy. Busted. Cold. Another guy was caught in the park laying under a blanket with a woman in broad daylight by his common law wife. They always seem to be bottom barrel, lower class people. I'd like to see more white bread people getting busted in such a cheesy way.
Almost every mix tape I send out has the song De Cara A La Pared (Face to the Wall) by Lhasa on it. Here are the lyrics in English (the song is sung in Spanish):
Crying
Face to the wall
The city goes dark
Crying
And there's nothing else
I'm dying, maybe
Where are you?
Dreaming
Face to the wall
The city burns
Dreaming
Without breathing
I want to love you
I want to love you
Praying
Face to the wall
The city drowns
Praying
Santa Maria
Santa Maria
Santa Maria