Things To Remember
7:30--the sun will apparently not be coming up today.
8:00--remove mouse carcasses from traps set last night.
8:15--mouse poop cannot be left unattended indefinitely.
9:00--that is not a real snake. you bought it at Miss. truck stop.
9:24--just because you can sit down anytime you want to, doesn't mean you should.
9:35--wash hands frequently.
9:42--the north wind blows coldly across Mt. Pleasant.
9:59--you have a fairly good understanding of the meaning behind when the cat's away the mice will play.
10:15--if cleanliness is next to godliness you are getting closer to God.
12:09--you should tackle the pantry now.
12:10--don't forget to eat.
12:11--bleh, this is probably why you don't clean so often.
12:30--the best responses to Bernadette's if she were here probable assertion that little debbies are not a proper lunch are 1., yes they are, or 2., whatever.
...more recent posts
A Weekday
I was keeping to the middle of the street to avoid the rats. Walking without much concern for traffic at 6 a.m. I did not like the idea of starting the day with any kind of physical contact with rodents. The rodent I allow has not so much interest in contacting me either. But the possibility for accidental touching remains high. High as a trash heap. Please, startled from your trash heap dreams do not brush against the shoulder of my ankle. I beg of you to not run your gray lumpy self over my paint-splattered hiking boots. Instead of all that pleading I just walk in the middle of the street, where the heavy gray skittering from say beneath a Chevy is less frequent than up on the sidewalk.
In the afternoon coming back from Long Island with more paint splattered not only on the boots I brake as part of the two mile long rubber-necking procession and enjoy as we all do a good car fire, hood engulfed in the yellow orange blaze, tires catching now, just passing right along and rolling down all the windows to remove from the deeper recesses of my cavernous nostrils the smell of freshly burnt rubber. The fireman had been opening the back door and I spent the next few miles imagining what may have been in the back seat. There was always a stuffed animal.
Back up in a fifth floor sanctuary hearing from beyond the blue building the progressively more persistent whirring of helicopter blades over Wall Street I take a nap.
I was keeping to the middle of the street to avoid the rats. Walking without much concern for traffic at 6 a.m. I did not like the idea of starting the day with any kind of physical contact with rodents. The rodent I allow has not so much interest in contacting me either. But the possibility for accidental touching remains high. High as a trash heap. Please, startled from your trash heap dreams do not brush against the shoulder of my ankle. I beg of you to not run your gray lumpy self over my paint-splattered hiking boots. Instead of all that pleading I just walk in the middle of the street, where the heavy gray skittering from say beneath a Chevy is less frequent than up on the sidewalk.
In the afternoon coming back from Long Island with more paint splattered not only on the boots I brake as part of the two mile long rubber-necking procession and enjoy as we all do a good car fire, hood engulfed in the yellow orange blaze, tires catching now, just passing right along and rolling down all the windows to remove from the deeper recesses of my cavernous nostrils the smell of freshly burnt rubber. The fireman had been opening the back door and I spent the next few miles imagining what may have been in the back seat. There was always a stuffed animal.
Back up in a fifth floor sanctuary hearing from beyond the blue building the progressively more persistent whirring of helicopter blades over Wall Street I take a nap.
News Copter
Up To Your Ankles
In New York early this morning near hurricane strength gusts of wind ripped through the city bringing down leaves from trees to come crashing wetly down on vehicles below, in some cases sticking to windshields or even sunroofs.
The devastation was felt citywide, trashcans not emptied of their refuse prior to the storm gave up their contents to a greedy and less than fastidious Irene, who set about spreading wrappers and brown paper bags hither and thither.
In lower lying areas of southern Manhattan the flooding was widespread, if measured in inches. The brave and curious could be seen wading in water up to their ankles and in some cases mid thigh.
A city torn apart by worry and meteorological speculation now rebuilds.
In New York early this morning near hurricane strength gusts of wind ripped through the city bringing down leaves from trees to come crashing wetly down on vehicles below, in some cases sticking to windshields or even sunroofs.
The devastation was felt citywide, trashcans not emptied of their refuse prior to the storm gave up their contents to a greedy and less than fastidious Irene, who set about spreading wrappers and brown paper bags hither and thither.
In lower lying areas of southern Manhattan the flooding was widespread, if measured in inches. The brave and curious could be seen wading in water up to their ankles and in some cases mid thigh.
A city torn apart by worry and meteorological speculation now rebuilds.
The Irene After
Instead Of Dessert
We stopped off for dinner in Cleveland at some well reviewed place which was only adequate but had a nice meal until the alcohol and 10 hours of driving kicked in and then we arm wrestled a little bit instead of looking at the dessert menu.
But did enjoy Cleveland for a couple of hours exploring on a rainy Sunday. Drove around, went to a park and looked at the black sky over Lake Erie.
Got back on the road after the early dinner and headed straight for Toledo, Ohio which I have been eager to add to list of places I can answer affirmatively about when asked have I been there. Yes I have I smiled knowingly.
We are off to a written about diner somewhere here in Toledo and then to Dearborn to commune with its Arabic population, and have what I strongly feel will be excellent Middle Eastern for lunch and fit in between these a visit to the Henry Ford Museum so I can take a look at the limousine inside of which President Kennedy was killed.
Then to Detroit for a few days before driving back to NY possibly in the rain again which was not so bad once we replaced the windshield wiper and Interstate 80 is a fine piece of road and western PA is pretty kick ass.
We stopped off for dinner in Cleveland at some well reviewed place which was only adequate but had a nice meal until the alcohol and 10 hours of driving kicked in and then we arm wrestled a little bit instead of looking at the dessert menu.
But did enjoy Cleveland for a couple of hours exploring on a rainy Sunday. Drove around, went to a park and looked at the black sky over Lake Erie.
Got back on the road after the early dinner and headed straight for Toledo, Ohio which I have been eager to add to list of places I can answer affirmatively about when asked have I been there. Yes I have I smiled knowingly.
We are off to a written about diner somewhere here in Toledo and then to Dearborn to commune with its Arabic population, and have what I strongly feel will be excellent Middle Eastern for lunch and fit in between these a visit to the Henry Ford Museum so I can take a look at the limousine inside of which President Kennedy was killed.
Then to Detroit for a few days before driving back to NY possibly in the rain again which was not so bad once we replaced the windshield wiper and Interstate 80 is a fine piece of road and western PA is pretty kick ass.
No Mention Of Pepsi
To the naked eye of anyone who might gaze upon the scene of me it would probably not look like I am engaged in a crucially important task.
I am waiting for the phone to ring while reading an assortment of things, the novel Black Swan Green, news and feature articles (like I need to read someone's assessment of how pissed off the average American is at those that govern), some article about how Brooklyn (and possibly Detroit) wants to be careful about becoming Portland, another one about three plausible inventors of the High Five even though the first one is a hoax, which takes a brief foray into what it might mean to be a gay baseball player in the late 70s and to date Tommy Lasorda's son, even though the son, emphatically so says Coach Lasorda, was not gay.
As a passive barrier to the approaching afternoon sun the shades are drawn so gazing out the window is not an option.
I received a forwarded letter from Allstate informing me that their policy in North Carolina is to cancel the home insurance of any of their customers who don't also insure their vehicle with Allstate. I've wasted a number of days in pure befuddlement over how this could be so, another few in deep research, and the last several in casual but non forward moving acceptance of yet another thing added to the barrel of things that suck. Suck is as close as I am going to come to using foul language as partly this is an exercise in self control; an attempt at mature handling of a difficult situation.
I am finally this morning talking to a human from that aforementioned company, which I refer to in such anonymous fashion to prevent certain readers from looking for alternate meaning via secret between the lines coding as implied by repeated use of the company name. Like--see how he used the company name preceded by such and such a number of words whose total letter count adds up to such and such which if divided by three and subtracted from 37 equals cocksuckers. I don't want that to happen and I ask for mature reading only.
I thought I had received an actual email from the agent informing me of the whyfore of this policy change but as it turns out that was clearly just an automated personal sounding response activated when his inbox receives certain keywords. So I'm talking to him this morning and he has no actual knowledge that we have "communicated" by email and begins to go into the reasons for this new policy (even though I had not asked for any explanation) which are in short--blah blah limiting exposure in states with coastal areas blah and you can kiss our large ass if you don't like it. And I had to politely halt him midway through, not to inform him that I had already read the automated email and a considerably long assessment from a Lexus-Nexus type news database for financial matters, but just to say I had been in New Orleans after the big one and had certain feelings about the cocksuckers, I mean company, and how they limited their exposure but did not want to get sidetracked on that, was more just interested in the alternate insurance company mentioned in his email. I am not so interested in the specifics of how said company will one day screw me, just stupidly eager to add them to the list of things I can complain about in the future.
Sometimes I feel like I am following a path lined with little yellow lights and along which there are loudspeakers announcing--all dumb asses this way, all dumb assess this way, and even at the forks of implied choice the neon arrows pointing each way are above blinking Vegas-like signage redundantly leading me with the words, dumb asses only, dumb asses only. Eagerly walking and in some cases running ahead of me are any number of people more ambitious, some who turn and taunt--I'm going to be there ahead of you. When I ask where they answer ahead of you.
To the naked eye of anyone who might gaze upon the scene of me it would probably not look like I am engaged in a crucially important task.
I am waiting for the phone to ring while reading an assortment of things, the novel Black Swan Green, news and feature articles (like I need to read someone's assessment of how pissed off the average American is at those that govern), some article about how Brooklyn (and possibly Detroit) wants to be careful about becoming Portland, another one about three plausible inventors of the High Five even though the first one is a hoax, which takes a brief foray into what it might mean to be a gay baseball player in the late 70s and to date Tommy Lasorda's son, even though the son, emphatically so says Coach Lasorda, was not gay.
As a passive barrier to the approaching afternoon sun the shades are drawn so gazing out the window is not an option.
I received a forwarded letter from Allstate informing me that their policy in North Carolina is to cancel the home insurance of any of their customers who don't also insure their vehicle with Allstate. I've wasted a number of days in pure befuddlement over how this could be so, another few in deep research, and the last several in casual but non forward moving acceptance of yet another thing added to the barrel of things that suck. Suck is as close as I am going to come to using foul language as partly this is an exercise in self control; an attempt at mature handling of a difficult situation.
I am finally this morning talking to a human from that aforementioned company, which I refer to in such anonymous fashion to prevent certain readers from looking for alternate meaning via secret between the lines coding as implied by repeated use of the company name. Like--see how he used the company name preceded by such and such a number of words whose total letter count adds up to such and such which if divided by three and subtracted from 37 equals cocksuckers. I don't want that to happen and I ask for mature reading only.
I thought I had received an actual email from the agent informing me of the whyfore of this policy change but as it turns out that was clearly just an automated personal sounding response activated when his inbox receives certain keywords. So I'm talking to him this morning and he has no actual knowledge that we have "communicated" by email and begins to go into the reasons for this new policy (even though I had not asked for any explanation) which are in short--blah blah limiting exposure in states with coastal areas blah and you can kiss our large ass if you don't like it. And I had to politely halt him midway through, not to inform him that I had already read the automated email and a considerably long assessment from a Lexus-Nexus type news database for financial matters, but just to say I had been in New Orleans after the big one and had certain feelings about the cocksuckers, I mean company, and how they limited their exposure but did not want to get sidetracked on that, was more just interested in the alternate insurance company mentioned in his email. I am not so interested in the specifics of how said company will one day screw me, just stupidly eager to add them to the list of things I can complain about in the future.
Sometimes I feel like I am following a path lined with little yellow lights and along which there are loudspeakers announcing--all dumb asses this way, all dumb assess this way, and even at the forks of implied choice the neon arrows pointing each way are above blinking Vegas-like signage redundantly leading me with the words, dumb asses only, dumb asses only. Eagerly walking and in some cases running ahead of me are any number of people more ambitious, some who turn and taunt--I'm going to be there ahead of you. When I ask where they answer ahead of you.
LOL Chauffeur
Chauffeur and I have been recently engaged in haphazard communication. By email mostly. Chauffeur: could I use washer/dryer before someone new moves in? He has a key to the Rocheblave house. Sure I say, could you take some pictures showing condition of house and email them? Could I take pictures and email them, you are kidding right? Ha Ha LOL. The Chauffeur and that LOL thing are incongruous to me but not necessarily in a bad way. Not like a grandmother in hot pants. Like many people his embracing of the Internet and his ability to best utilize it are not always perfectly meshed.
He had first emailed me out of the blue to warn me that the property manager was showing the house to people who for him raised red flags. At the time I had not even been clearly apprised of the situation, except the brief mention from Property Manager that all may not be well in my world as a Landlord, and this only after I had emailed him to question why the electronic deposits seemed lacking in regularity.
We have shared, the Chauffeur and I, not as best buddies but as very good neighborly acquaintances, over a number of years, visions out the glass of our opposing windows of how quickly a modest somewhat decrepit neighborhood can go from nice, just how we like it, to an explosively dramatic nightmare. One in which you wander righteously indignant down a path lined with wrongness until the path dead ends and there before you rising up is a giant green and white highway sign that says--what the fuck did you expect moving into a neighborhood like this? What we expect is reasonable living costs in a vibrant setting surrounded by the greatest variety of humanity possible, without having to explore too often all the thought processes which occasional gunfire or constant street drug dealing bring to our minds' forefront.
I hear from him next just this past week that he is driving a car to Cape Cod or some such place and will be in the area briefly but no real hinting at a get together, more just a hey man look at me I'm driving cross country for some rich dude, seriously though look at me, can you dig it? Yes I can Chauffeur.
Got an email from New Orleans today saying he is back there but was stuck in Newark last night, wished he had my phone number. Same one as ever I tell him but it doesn't ring or far as I can tell even vibrate anymore. Told him next time he should try JFK which would give him the option to conveniently transport into city, within a block of here, for 8 bucks, instead of the 40 or 50 for cab or car service.
Says he's making the trip again in a couple of weeks, in reverse, to pick the car up. Did I want to drive back with him. I don't know, maybe. I guess if I got my chores done. But the timing's a little off. Someone's already moved into my house, which at times is a place I miss, and if empty would be a mark on the plus side column as a reason to go. Could see the nephew, have been remiss in familial matters of late. Long drives are nice. Have been thinking about one. New Orleans in August though. Not the best time to be there.
Bernadette has been talking about arranging with her sister the Restauranteur time to use the car they share and so maybe we will get our motor running out on the highway more locally, upstate, or into Pennsylvania or (you get some sleep, I'll drive for awhile)...and waking up she says could you pull over somewhere, I need to pee, hey what the hell...did that sign say Detroit? (Looking for adventure...whatever comes our way...)
Chauffeur and I have been recently engaged in haphazard communication. By email mostly. Chauffeur: could I use washer/dryer before someone new moves in? He has a key to the Rocheblave house. Sure I say, could you take some pictures showing condition of house and email them? Could I take pictures and email them, you are kidding right? Ha Ha LOL. The Chauffeur and that LOL thing are incongruous to me but not necessarily in a bad way. Not like a grandmother in hot pants. Like many people his embracing of the Internet and his ability to best utilize it are not always perfectly meshed.
He had first emailed me out of the blue to warn me that the property manager was showing the house to people who for him raised red flags. At the time I had not even been clearly apprised of the situation, except the brief mention from Property Manager that all may not be well in my world as a Landlord, and this only after I had emailed him to question why the electronic deposits seemed lacking in regularity.
We have shared, the Chauffeur and I, not as best buddies but as very good neighborly acquaintances, over a number of years, visions out the glass of our opposing windows of how quickly a modest somewhat decrepit neighborhood can go from nice, just how we like it, to an explosively dramatic nightmare. One in which you wander righteously indignant down a path lined with wrongness until the path dead ends and there before you rising up is a giant green and white highway sign that says--what the fuck did you expect moving into a neighborhood like this? What we expect is reasonable living costs in a vibrant setting surrounded by the greatest variety of humanity possible, without having to explore too often all the thought processes which occasional gunfire or constant street drug dealing bring to our minds' forefront.
I hear from him next just this past week that he is driving a car to Cape Cod or some such place and will be in the area briefly but no real hinting at a get together, more just a hey man look at me I'm driving cross country for some rich dude, seriously though look at me, can you dig it? Yes I can Chauffeur.
Got an email from New Orleans today saying he is back there but was stuck in Newark last night, wished he had my phone number. Same one as ever I tell him but it doesn't ring or far as I can tell even vibrate anymore. Told him next time he should try JFK which would give him the option to conveniently transport into city, within a block of here, for 8 bucks, instead of the 40 or 50 for cab or car service.
Says he's making the trip again in a couple of weeks, in reverse, to pick the car up. Did I want to drive back with him. I don't know, maybe. I guess if I got my chores done. But the timing's a little off. Someone's already moved into my house, which at times is a place I miss, and if empty would be a mark on the plus side column as a reason to go. Could see the nephew, have been remiss in familial matters of late. Long drives are nice. Have been thinking about one. New Orleans in August though. Not the best time to be there.
Bernadette has been talking about arranging with her sister the Restauranteur time to use the car they share and so maybe we will get our motor running out on the highway more locally, upstate, or into Pennsylvania or (you get some sleep, I'll drive for awhile)...and waking up she says could you pull over somewhere, I need to pee, hey what the hell...did that sign say Detroit? (Looking for adventure...whatever comes our way...)
Sublet
The bed slides easily on the waxed wood floor. Depending on what side of the bed you are claiming there is real estate lost or won whenever the bed slides. Sometimes the sliding is explicable and sometimes, frankly, how the bed slides remains one of those mysteries like why in the world is there even such a thing as potted meat. I don't own anything in New York except some socks and t-shirts and a number of inherited or gifted electronic gadgets. This is Bernadette's apartment so it is rather cheeky of me but I'm thinking of subletting the piece of real estate I've recently gained by the sliding of the bed. Bernadette on her side has a narrow sliver of pathway and I don't know how she gets in and out of bed without tripping over something, shoes or cat hairballs or gadget cords or the like because there really is just barely enough space for one foot in front of the other and I wonder if she will ever complain about it but so far so good. I'm thinking I have enough extra space that if I leave myself a sliver equal to Bernadette's then I will still have 7 or 8 square feet extra which I could rent out. Premium New York Real Estate. Eight luxurious square feet in the hip and happening Lower East Side. Perfect for a small person who is also very quiet and never at home. 750 per month. First and last month's deposit. No pets but must be able to clean a cat box twice a week. I don't want to count my chickens but I can smell that money coming in.
The bed slides easily on the waxed wood floor. Depending on what side of the bed you are claiming there is real estate lost or won whenever the bed slides. Sometimes the sliding is explicable and sometimes, frankly, how the bed slides remains one of those mysteries like why in the world is there even such a thing as potted meat. I don't own anything in New York except some socks and t-shirts and a number of inherited or gifted electronic gadgets. This is Bernadette's apartment so it is rather cheeky of me but I'm thinking of subletting the piece of real estate I've recently gained by the sliding of the bed. Bernadette on her side has a narrow sliver of pathway and I don't know how she gets in and out of bed without tripping over something, shoes or cat hairballs or gadget cords or the like because there really is just barely enough space for one foot in front of the other and I wonder if she will ever complain about it but so far so good. I'm thinking I have enough extra space that if I leave myself a sliver equal to Bernadette's then I will still have 7 or 8 square feet extra which I could rent out. Premium New York Real Estate. Eight luxurious square feet in the hip and happening Lower East Side. Perfect for a small person who is also very quiet and never at home. 750 per month. First and last month's deposit. No pets but must be able to clean a cat box twice a week. I don't want to count my chickens but I can smell that money coming in.