I haven't been tending to this blog because I got hired at Amazon. Of course I'm holding my breath, waiting for the other shoe--the other shoe, in this case, seems to be, "You're fired." It really is always something.

I came here first, Unlogged. I will check my hotmail in a few--just wanted to register that I haven't actually accomplished what I so often wander about anymore. Like I said somewhere, Homeland Security has succeeded in preventing a few deaths, namely of those strugglahs who truly do not wish to hurt anyone by out and out doing themselves, no CSI needed (after all, they are everywhere these days, and have yet to visit Lexington, KY). I'd counted on being able to skate off to northern Idaho and fall into cold, cold water, that and I have marked myself in ways that my parents and a few others would recognise. Count the holes in my left ear, then you'll know.

My bad bad lyric. I work with a lot of Mexicans. I guess it's on me to relearn my Spanish. I had it in college, two years' worth of the King's, and knew some street Rican, which I guess is a little different, except for those reliable standards 'puta' and 'pendejo' and 'maricon'. Words that sound quite bizarre out of any context at all, which is the way I understand them. (Cursing in German is different: anything that comes out of your mouth sounds unwashed, you know, just really wrong.)

The walls of the library are as green as the trees outside. The allergy trees. They assaulted me as I considered why it might be more difficult to get across Vur-Sales Road. I'd drunk three, almost four cups of nasty Navy coffee (cold, with salt--either an old boyfriend or a Tom Clancy book taught me that trick) and eaten the last Mini-thin I could find, and was just sitting there on the shadowy stoop, watching the one set of neighbors, about twelve head d deep, playing Chinese Fire Drill with their house, when I began to wonder why the trees, normally so yielding, looked so thick. Too thick to make a path through, which would mean some kind of trifling bullpoop or other, and then it occurred to me--the trees had leaves. The leaves put forth allergens. Mini-Thinz contain ephedra (anybody want to write a scholarly-but-hip essay on that, go for it: it's completely legal today, and that is good), ephedra constricts the blood vessels in the nose and elsewhere, gunk has a harder time leaking out of the capillaries to do something to something else and then some, and I had a thought, which went like this: I just completed a circle. Spring has sprung, right into summer, bypassing the few snowstorms it has left in it this close to the Coast. Aaaahhhhh, that's a nice picture. The Lannic Coast, its short waves and grey beaches.

Something's wrong with this window. It will not allow itself to be enlarged, and is playing 'Elisions'. The question--elisions of what? And how many typoes have I left open for the figuring? (The major news channel in this town, CHANNEL 36WKYT, in case anyone with the mojo is listening--has this dumb as dung typesetter, I guess one would call this individual, who invariably misspells at least one word that can be read as the news fades out at night. Silly words, such as 'edition'--two t's with that one--and 'navel' [meaning 'umbilicus', not 'branch of armed services'.) I'd like that job, I think--get to put my own name up there at the end, unaware as I am of what the position is actually called.

Okay, well as I recall, I was trying to wonder why the trees had become thicker. Trying to wonder is true. It was lights out with the seroquel last night, and when a stealth attack of early waking got me, two migs of klonopin. Oh how I love my Klonopin. Some day it's gonna get me, courtesy of the person with the pad and me being too shaky then to even think about forgery, but for now for now for now. Then I noticed that the trees had leaves. Then I noticed that my usual route--behind a squatty little red building that has been vacant for about half a year--was going to be no more, because someone was moving in. Then I knew that the forces were just having a little fun at my expense: because when I figured I'd go the way Frank my neighbor goes, I lost a shoe as I mounted the old stone wall.e had

Frank. I'm of the opinion that he will take this rejection with some to little excess: He likes me. Yaggghhh. I knew that that was coming. He bored piss out my ears last night explicating how he was going to take over the Long John Silver empire. He told me he was off his meds, and had commenced some sort of noise battle with Nessie, my own albatross and perfume-wielding snitch. That, Frank said, was what he hollered at her through the walls that separate our duplices, because apparently she had complained to our handlers that he was a pretty loud individual, what with his music and his parties ("providing minors with alcohol" are what I'd call them; more on that if I have the time for it) and his very own voice. He yelled at Nessie that he could smell her perfume. Through the walls, which is a bit odd, b/c I can't smell the stuff outside her bedroom door. He made this statement: "Wait until I get my stereo." Which sounds like a terroristic threat; even worse seeing as it was made by a man nearing forty.

I had to defend Nessie on that score. I've been through Stereo Wars too many times to count. There's enough rap and salsa around these parts to hump a Hummer; that really does get f*ck on my last one, although I grew up with a much louder equivalent thereto, and I know that this is an enemy, that if chosen, would win easily. Frank's young friends have done what I knew they were going to do: dumped him, for they follow like rats this young lady who has herself told Frank where to get off. Found some other ad-ult to buy them liquor.  Which brings me to a hard place, actually, because these kids came equipped with dogs. I said about the dogs, two or three times. Sweet pit bull puppy love--but the dogs belong to the girl, and, and she won't be coming round, because I bet old Frank scared what's left to scare out of her, which never seemed like much. Hard life, tough armor.

Denied the favors of Ariana, Frank has started looking at me, and well, that wouldn't  be much of a problem, except for that he's there. He's also the sort of person that tries unto death to look like a hard guy (takes one to know one, you know?) when he's not. He--just got my ten-minute warning--showed me the innards of what was meant to be a two-car garage last evening, and indicated that when he left, he was taking two of three ladders and three of four gas grills with him. To sell. Ooooohhh, him bad! Him remind me of me, and that is big ouch indeed.

the other night, two mentally-challenged adults were on the bus. They were trying to catch the attention of a third such person, who was trying to catch a bus of her own. (...) Because of the metal walls and glass windows, neither was successful. The female, who resembled the cartoon character Big Bird (or was it Baby Huey?), yelled, "Hey Nancy! You're sexy!" And they dissolved into plump riot, and I wished they'd just shut up and ride the bus, a mean thought but still, and they eventually got off. As I am going to do right now. This place is, of course, getting too loud for words.