1. Friday, September 6, 2002

    theres a snoring twenty year old blonde girl in my bed right now 

    and here i am typing to you back at the assignment desk. no long undercover. no longer being denied. no longer sad oh so sad and lonely. hi.

    it was very hard to pull myself out of bed this morn and im even typing slow.

    c a n y o u t e l l ?

    i think ashley put something in my drink because in approximately an hour after she served me my fruit punch soda i was feeling a slight boost of euphoria followed by intense sensations on my skin, slight perspiration, and the desire to chew things and have things in my mouth. first i wanted to eat something, then i wanted to poop, then i wanted to take a shower, then i just wanted to walk.

    walking was good.

    holding her hand was really good. we walked over to the market and suddenly i was very very friendly. like way more than normal. i introduced ashley to the proprietor of the liquor store. his name is mangie. hi mangie, this is ashley. hi ashlely, i have seen your boyfriend here a lot.

    i said, next time you see him, spit in his gatorade.

    we all laughed.

    mangie has a nice store next to a poker room where the fellas wear turbans and smoke out of big hookas. the women talk at a separate table.

    he hired a local man who has missing teeth, a big tummy, and something wrong with his leg, but hes the security man although he has no uniform. he laughed at my joke even though i don’t think he got it.

    then mangie’s landlord walked in. wasn’t satisfied with the rent check for that month.

    “we changed banks.”

    “what did you change banks for?”

    “we didn’t like the other bank, but that check is good.”

    “yeah, we’ll see about that.”

    we picked up a few cans of whipped cream, bubble gum, diet cokes, and more water. i felt like i was in love. the air felt great. the weather last night around here was perfect. its been perfect for a while. at night.

    got home, i just wanted to get out of my clothes. i had long black nylon sweat pants with a design running down the leg. i call them my ozzy pants. they would look better on ozzy though. i tried to explain this to ashley who was chewing on her sweet tarts. i guess we got sweet tarts at mangie’s too. sorry. she said i don’t really care for ozzy.

    so i took off my shirt and put on bark at the moon and sang into a wooden spoon. she laughed. everyone was laughing last night. my neighbor has a dog. a big dog. we can have dogs in our apartments. the dog saw me jumping around pouring buckets of water on the crowd. hopping like a freaky toad and the dog started barking.

    “rocky!” his owner yelled through her screen. “cut it out!”

    rocky gave one more good bark and sat down but really wanted to come through my screen window. wagged his tail, readjusted. hyper. like he had to pee. but he didn’t have to pee. he wanted to eat my head off. not this time, rocky. ya fuck.

    the roadies gave me a new bucket and i lunged at the window about to drench the poor beast. he flinched, but all that came out was confetti.

    ashley and rocky both gasped.

    fooled you again, mothafuckas. i said and broke into “fool in the rain,” led zep. started dancing around like an old man.

    god were people laughing.

    rocky just laid down and watched.

    i think he was laughing a little too.

    its all good.

    when i fell asleep i was out immediately. too fast to even pray to the Lord and tell him thanks for all my blessings.

    thanks for all my blessings, Lord.

    and thanks to annessa for flowing $15 into the camera fund, and to greg b. for adding $5.

    thanks kids!