Saturday

When a crisis happens in a particular country, people around DC bring flowers and set them outside that country's embassy.
I was walking by the White House after playing soccer all afternoon one Saturday. I had my soccer ball in my bag. I wondered what would happen if I took that ball out of my bag and punted it over the fence into the White House compound. Would a sniper drop me right there?

Monday

She stole a few checks out of my check book and wrote herself a few drafts for cash. A couple hundred bucks. She was some stoner girl who crashed on the couch of this house where I lived for a while - some scholarship drama student who had dropped out. I didn't figure it out until my check for rent bounced. She had moved on by then. I heard that she got locked up in the psych ward after she went berserk and cut off all of her hair and tried to kill herself, a 'cry for help' type of attempt, I heard.

I left it alone.

Whatever. I guess it would have been pretty fucked up to wait for the girl to get discharged from the nut ward, and then have the cops come sprawl her across the hood of the squad car in the looney bin parking lot, and cuff her and stuff her, and cart her ass straight to jail before she's even finished her first cigarette in months. You know.

Sunday

I am a temp who has finally found a permanent job - temporarily. I knew that while this person was standing in my cubicle talking to me, if I were to suddenly stand up, he would step aside or step out of my cubicle or maybe feel startled or just feel as though I had to go somewhere, and that he was in the way or holding me up . . . yet I still stood up - quickly - but then I kind of slouched and leaned back and looked very relaxed, yet attentive - interested - so he resumed what he was saying - resumed the pace of it.

I just have to be on my feet sometimes.

Then, at lunch, people on the wait staff had words written on their hands -
Different words:
‘Blank,' ‘out back,' 'running,' ‘revised.' I knew what they were up to.
You have to have been in the business to know what they were up to.

Monday

I was on TV news tonight. "Tea. Hot tea. Yes indeed," is what I said. No shit. Some story about staying warm in the cold.

Tuesday

Don't you think you could just quit everything and open up a little shop in a little college town? A little bead shop or somethin - sell hacky sacks, tee-shirts, frisbies, sandals, all that shit college folks need - - a thrift store. Or a warehouse where you store students' junk when they're home - between dorm and apartment - whatever. Or a little beer and hot dog joint. Or beer and tacos. Or beer and sammiches. It'd be so easy. I wish life was easy.