Wednesday, July 21, 2004

Christ, it was hot this morning. Ride up to Evanston and arrive just awash in sweat. Got the swamp crotch for sure. I love going into the coffee shop, Liquid Cafe, to get my jumbo iced coffee and trying to be all flirty with the girl behind the counter while rills of sweat run down my nose and the body funky rolls off me like fog off Lake Michigan. I do like the girl, however...I think she's a track and field person. She's got that build...lean and muscular with a big strong ass and thighs. I think she could tear me apart like she'd tear apart a loaf of wet bread. And I think I'd like that.

Last night was uneventful. Worked on the cover to the last of the Obsession CDs. a mix of Japancakes (goddamn Japancakes) and the Bad Plus. Had to dig through the many already-packed boxes to find the book I wanted to scan something from--a Dover publication (goddamn Dover) filled with reproductions for old toy catalogs. Scanned it in and played with a type solution before I got completely bored and just went off to read the New Yorker. However, I finished it up and printed it out tonight. The obsession is banished. (Hah.)

Also, had to repack about ten of my boxes last night...I carefully read the contract from the movers and it said "Don't use duct tape"...and, of course, I'd used duct tape on many of the boxes. I can see the days since I taped them up, the duct tape had gotten all loose and saggy in the heat (like my grandma used to do) and didn't keep the boxes closed. Hey, I was on a packing roll and ran out of packing I used duct. So that was a joyful, cheerless grind. The ripping sound the tape-gun scares T and she slinks off to my room to hide....which is good, because that's the only place that has air conditioning. I leave it on all day with a thick, brown wool blanket pinned up across to the door so the coolth stays in and she can come and go as she pleases. But I get this odd sense that she basks in the smoldering crucible of the front room everyday. Not the brightest of dogs, that T.

Bought two plane tickets tonight. One from Indianapolis (i.e. "home") to Chicago--I am going back to spend some time with mom and drop T off to stay with her. (More on that in the next paragraph.) The other ticket is the FOR GOOD ticket, taking me away from Chicago to New York City FOR GOOD. Both tickets make me pass through Midway. Which is odd because I consider O'Hare to be THE Chicago airport. Total cost: something around $230.00. Not too shabby but I'd much rather not spend the money.

So about T: I have had T for twelve years--since early June of 1992--and I'm sending her off to spend the rest of her days with my mom. I hate to do it but Astoria is such a shitty place for a dog: a borough full of hot, dirty concrete, no grass, stunted trees. I remember harboring the same fears about bringing her up to Chicago in 1995...but Chicago is such a green city by comparison, and T and I have always managed to find some doubly green areas in our wanderings. These places smell like yellow and are full of rabbits and birds, wildflowers and tall, lithe weeds and it's enough to make us both think we're wandering through some fossil-studded creekbed in southern Indiana. But Astoria...ugh. Hard and cement-y. So I have only nine days left with T, plus the five I'm going to spend down in Indy. Man. Man. Whoa. Dammit.

No volleyball tonight: big storm blew through the area right around 5pm. Went to Bank One at lunch to see what kind of difficulties I'd have transferring my $$$ to a Chase Manhattan bank, since the two "merged"; the customer service people were completely useless, of course. So no resolution on that. Had a shitty lunch at the Phoenix Inn Chinese Restaurant in downtown Evanston. I generally cut Chinese food a lot of slack because but this place was ass. The food was room temperature, the staff bored shitless and inattentive. I guess that's my fault for coming in at 2:30 pm.

Managed to hack my way through a few stories in Metamorphoses today: seems like everyone either ends up getting turned into a tree, a flower, a fountain, a bird, or they're turned into stone somehow. What I like best about Metamorphoses is the lack of ethical behavior on the parts of both men and gods...both mortals and immortals behave in the worst possible manner. It's odd because we...okay, *I*...equate divinity with morality and these gods whore around, impregnate dozens of women with bastard children, kill people who mouth off; the female deities kill the mortal women who've slept with their immortal husband--whether they were cogent of the facts or not--or turn them into reptiles or whatever. It makes me wonder--since the Roman/Greek gods were so totally bereft of morals--where and how the Romans drew the line in their behavior. I am sure some brainiac out there can point me in the right direction...but I'm equally sure he's not reading this blog.

On the other hand, I'm reading One Hundred Years of Solitude again which is quite possibly The Best Book Ever.

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