1. Tuesday, July 9, 2002

    im 108 years old, 

    my landlady is 178 years old. shes been living in hollywood for most of her life and i like her because she’s a racist and she isnt ashamed and she likes me and i like her.

    she knows im not white and she knows that im a preacher and she hates religion and i dont blame her. we’ve only known each other for a year and yet she says that im one of the few people that shes met her whole life that she likes. i say, you say that because you dont really know me, she says i know you well enough.

    she asks me what things are like for younger people and i like when she asks me those things because i feel old, not young, a lot. i say things are about the same, i suppose, as what she had to deal with when she was my age. she says what do you know about what things were like way back when, and i said, i read a lot. she says you do, i say, shhhh, dont tell anyone, but yeah. she says what do you read? i say, penthouse forum, shes all, ive never heard of it, i say, its good.

    i never ask her about the olden days. shes a pessimist. she likes to worry.

    she says do you have any regrets? i say, that i never learned how to shred on guitar. she says you’re still young, i say, yeah, but i still have to work on my kissing. she says i doubt that.

    she says, do you have regrets about who you kissed? i say, i only regret who i didnt kiss. she says that she regrets who she kissed. she says she regrets the boy she kissed in nyc who then convinced her to move to hollywood, this damn city, she says.

    her bed smells like urine, her sink is lined with rows and rows of rubbing alcohol and i wonder if she drinks it and she offers me Ensures as i leave and what can i do, i have to accept it. she says you really dont regret any of the girls you kissed? i say, no way, i think when we’re done with all of this we probably should have kissed about three times as many people than we ended up kissing. she says oh, but that ruins the specialness of it.

    i say, i eat dinner every night and some dinners are special because of the people, some because of the presentation, some because of the location, some because of the circumstance some of because of the magic.

    she said that she once ate french bread on a train riding through france with a man who knew no english and the bread was warm and the cheese was runny and the wine was cold and her toes tingled each time the train would bump and their feet would touch and i say tell me that if you had a train ride like that a week later it still wouldnt be just as special she said, who said i didnt have a train ride like that a week later. and i said, see.

    she said, you have a very special way about you. i say, you can see that with just one eye, she said i dont even need an eye to see that.

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