Phillip Wilson

Amazingly, I survived my Life
2011-09-30 00:02:19 (UTC)

2001 REVIEW (PART NINETEEN)

13 February-31 December, Childersburg/Sylacauga, AL (continues)

(acerca 1:25 P.M.) Tuesday, just before leaving work shortly after 7:00 P.M., Louise told me that Kathy, one of my female co-workers, has been reported as having given merchandise to her friends: At the Cash register she doesn’t “ring up” many items. One of the Big Bosses from Raleigh has spoken with her and articulated such a accusation. As a search for concrete evidence, Louise told me to hit the second button of the VCR in the office off to the side of the stock room: There are three registers, and above each, inplanted in the ceiling, is a video camera. The fartherest right (as the customer leaves) one was enforced on Tuesday, and this is the one “set-up.”
Kathy and I were the only two employees yesterday. She was at Bargain Town by herself for 45-50 minutes before I came at 9:15 A.M. or so. Upon arrival, I started the U.C.R., locked the office as Louise had “ordered,” and became the Spy for the Day. But Kathy had begun the check-out on the middle register! And the overhead camera that covers that machine was not operating. I got the sneaky feeling that Cathy (Kathy) suspected the surveillance: She made a point of having me “ring” up any purchases she made for herself. She knew how to “throw” the suspicion off of her. Three or four times during the day Cathy made official purchases. However, she could have transacted “improvised” buying when I was busy elsewhere in the store or on “breaks.”
Or was I the one under scrutiny, and Louise and Cathy were doing a “sting” on me? Something about the work day at Bargain Town yesterday that didn’t seem right! Besides, Cathy was too by the book in filling out my time card: I usually come in early and/or take less than an hour for lunch so that I can leave early. But when I went to sign my hours as such (for instance, I was going to reveal 9:15 A.M. as my “clock-in” time for Wednesday morning) Cathy made sure that I only document the hours Louse set aside for me. Even an added fifteen minutes was a cause for concern.
So was I spy or the subject? Will I ever really know?

(acerca 2:39 P.M.) I have no choice but to structure every one of my minutes: Any caught “unprotected,” not sponsored by reading, writing, music, etc, will be bombarded with Blasts from the past. I can’t emphasize enough how painful that is. Avoiding direct hits is what gives me the “limitless” energy that I displayed at work. This journal is my way of “rounding up” all the strays and corralling them in a pen. I become the master of my past for once.
The rough treatment suffered at the hands of the twenty-one hours of Bargain Town work, plus the Club “dance” this morning, made my body more appealing to Sleep earlier today. Hopefully, Sleep took a lot of the muscular soreness away when It left: The grass awaits mowing. That is, if Rain o’kays the cut job. Phoebus is being overtaken by Cloudy Skies, and permission may be denied.

(acerca 4:06 P.M.) Somehow Storm found out about the al fresco activity I had planned for late in the afternoon/early in the evening: I hurried and mowed the back yard, starting around 3:0_ P.M. Along about 2/3 through, Zephyr became irrational with Its fury! I just knew a tornado would follow! The day became dim: Dark clouds took command of the sky. They started “shouting” at us. But Deah (tied to a tree) and I got out of the brewing Storm just as Rain, Thunder, and Lightning began to pillage the area.
I must say, though, that Zephyr help cooled the job. And yes, I did finish. The front yard: Hell, there’s three more days available for it!

(acerca 6:14 P.M.) Past-management: That’s what I am trying to do with this journal. For future-management depends on it. Not to say present-management.
I also must learn how to deal with the after-effects of physical outlays: unloading trucks, juggling, cutting the grass, etc. A corporal riot has resulted from the back yard mowing: Am I working my Movers too much? After all, let’s not forget about a dwindling Recovery Time curtesy of Age!
A cease-fire has been agreed upon between Storm and the Fifth. But for how long?

(acerca 7:1_ P.M.) Phoebus ha_ the last word. As well as the stage all to Itself: Storm has “set” for today, and as It did this afternoon, so will it usher in evening. Does this mean that another rough climate will be among the “finds” of evening?

(6th, About 7:34 A.M.) I kept immersing my head in water for some reason. That in itself isn’t significant: Big Deal, I went under water! However the fact that my hearing aid was still in my ear: And a hearing aid must not, under any circumstances, be submerged in water or become victimized by rain.
Yet another “dream”/vision standing in for something else. There are so many of these “doubles” all over the place that the odds of one working in high.
COLUMBO (8-10:00 P.M., A and E) and LOVE BOAT (7-8:00 P.M., TVLAND) were the mind-altering think-control drugs masquerading as television programs that temporarily took over my life in the Family Room yesterday evening. PAX also played a major role: Several game shows and NBC13 news rebroadcast were contributors to my catatonic state, eve though I would assume other duties (walking Deah, writing reading the paper) reconnecting me with the real world.
I seriously doubt if the upper-60-degrees (F) will be able to deter Storm: Why should the Sixth be any different than the Fifth? Or the Fourth for that matter?

(acerca 8:43 A.M.) Monday is David’s last day at KAUZ, the television station (channel 6) in Wichita Falls, TX: Supposively Nicole, the director of weather, “ran” him off. Most likely so: But maybe it was also that David couldn’t take weather broadcasting as a full-time, real life pursuit. It has always been a game with him, and such an approach seldom, if ever, translates to the professional ranks. If David is so crazy with being a Weatherman, then the quickest way to have that love taken away is to have the love of your life exposed to the real world! David should just keep weather broadcasting as a “hobby.”
On the other hand, most likely it was the policy of KAUZ that ended David’s career with the station pre-maturely: If you recall, I had my doubts as to whether KAUZ was a good choice of career moves, before David relocated. Television is a hard business to begin with: All stations offer basically the same working conditions. But KAUZ “sounded” worse than others: The terms of Employment that was offered to David – a contract – never infiltrated my doubts. But what the hell, it is David’s career, and since I mis-managed my life, no one takes me seriously anyway!
Joyce is flying out to Wichita Falls tomorrow to help move him back to Childersburg. Then it remains to be seen if he continues a television career or goes another route. David shouldn’t feel ashamed or anything: Many people that have a lot more going for them than David don’t get along with the television business. It means nothing if one can’t: Does it mean anything if you don’t look good in, say, yellow? All it means is that you don’t look good in yellow!

(acerca 10:39 A.M.) You would think that I would meet a lot of people knew years ago, being that I grew up in this town, graduated from the local high school, and spent some of my adulthood here. But in the eight weeks that I have been employed at Bargain Town, I have only come across one or two people that I knew. My job, therefore, is not like being in Childersburg, AL, which would be a glaring symbol of my “failure.” That has been my fear all along: It’s bad enough to be a “failure” under normal circumstances, but to be forced to be a “failure” in Childersburg, when I should have left the town behind for good thirty years ago, would have been horrible indeed! As it is, the town is a different place, and most people I knew from years back did succeed in leaving Childersburg for good.
Should I forget about disability? Even some one like Alan Yates warned me that a part-time job will affect my status with disability. However, just because I’m working less than thirty hours a week at $5.15 an hour at a job that in no way meet my qualifications doesn’t necessarily mean that I am inelgible for disability!

(acerca 1:40 P.M.) Remember when I let it be known about the time, about forty years ago, when I threw a rock at Joyce as she was sunbathing out in the side of the yard in a swimsuit – the house on 5th Avenue, SW – and she got extremely angry, thereby causing me to vocally shut down the rest of the day? (I believe it was a Sunday; I can still recall “sulking” in the bedroom, doing something that involved the top right bunk bed [as one entered the bedroom] but standing up leaned against it). Well, I now realize that Joyce’s reaction was based on a fear on incest: Hell, I was closer to Joyce than to Jane or Linda, in age and companionship, and Joyce didn’t want the “love toss” to lead anyplace it shouldn’t. It wouldn’t have, though, would it?
From about 11:45 A.M. until about 1:15 P.M., I did business downtown: First I forwarded, as required, a copy of two pay stubs to UNIPAC, showing my hourly pay and the frequency of my pay. 15 cents for a hopeful hardship deferment on my undergraduate student loan. Then it was $1.29 for a pack of cigarettes from the convenient store on the highway.
I sent e-mails to Doug Green and Vic Camillo asking each to send me any and all negatives and/or paintings of my clown act that they may have and would care to release: I just may do a book project on my own.
For 75 cents, I printed out all five pages of the weekly journal covering my teaching internship at Tallahassee Community College in the Winter/Spring of 1999. The journal will become part of the overall record of my life.
Joyce and granny went grocery shopping at Winn Dixie and did other errands: Subsequenty I was able to travel by car both ways, saving my energy for grass-cutting. Which will have to be early in the evening: It is near 90-degrees (F) out there now!

(acerca 2:51 P.M.) I have long since forgotten the details, and I’m sure this journal wasn’t supplied with them, but a fuzzy image keeps being repeated on the “screen” of my mind of the time fifteen or more years ago, that I announced to granny – and maybe her friend Norma Davis – that the word “often” was pronounced “of-en,” with the “T” unvoiced. Granny made fun of me, but soon found out that I was correct.
A 32-minute outing with the three Bean Bags this morning kept me prepared for whatever, if anything, disability/the Federal government may arrange for me in the future. Every boy must have dream.

(7th, About 5:47 A.M.) This pink ink pen is part of my pay from Bargain Town: I took possession of it on Wednesday around 3:45 P.M. However the trail that it leaves behind may be too “faint” to follow. That may be, though, due to the fact that rather dark “tracks” were laid first, the pink being more or less frosting on the cake. All I can say is that if sensory perception is strained too badly, Pinky will be yanked from the line-up.
Kayla was brought over around 5:16 P.M. yesterday afternoon: I was in this room st_ding when I caught the sound of the child and her mother. Upon quitting my space and intruding on hers, she smiled. And later, when I was escorting her to the bathroom so that she may wash up for dinner, she looked me in the eye and told me that she liked me. That makes my bondage to Childersburg, AL, and Bargain Town not as odious to me as it would be if the child had not said what she said. All thoughts of returning to the circus next year or even relocating to Birmingham for television work immediately melted away. My failure at uncle-hood as Leslie (and I) was (were) growing up (together) still haunts me: Hopefully I will be able to exocise a lot of the pain by executing the “office” of grand-uncle to the best of my ability! It is an honor and a privilege to assume the duties and responsibilities of such a relationship.
Maybe grand-uncle-hood is my “second career”!
It was 8:15 P.M. or so when Kayla’s parents took her home.

(acerca 6:30 A.M.) What better reason than child care to have a Master’s degree? No other job on the face of the earth deserves it! If a MA in the humanities will make be a better uncle, the stress, energy, and money were well worth it!
I couldn’t help but wonder, though, as I watched this week’s installment of ROCK AND ROLL (9:30-10:30 P.M., P.B.S.) that I didn’t fulfil nearly the artistic potential that I was capable of. If only I had taken more of a chance! F. Scott Fitzgerald’s “There are no second acts!” is becoming more and more clear as I review my mis-management of my career: I will never get the chance to redo it, to do it correctly the second time around. My botched career is there, as it was, for history, if it even cheapens itself by discussing me, to highlight. And there’s nothing I can do about it now!

(acerca 8:23 A.M.) Joyce “flew” – on started on the air journey – to Wichita Falls, TX, early this morning: David’s last day at KAUZ is next Tuesday, and Joyce will be bringing him back to Childersburg from where, as I always did, he will try again to “jump start” his career. As I did and hopefully doing now, David is returning to the starting point – home plate, if you will – and make some minor (In my case, major!) adjustments to life.
I was also a horrible uncle to David. Unfortunately, though, I am not able to make up for that dysfunction. He seems to turn to Polly Holiday, his long-standing friend (actress that portrays Flo on Tv’s ALICE and in her early-60’s at this writing), for advice, instead of me: In all likelihood, my travesty of a life no longer - if indeed it ever had it – gives it credibility. Many times in the past I have told David that television is a tough business, nothing like what he played around the house and/or as a college student.
Actually, it’s Joyce that convinces David that I shouldn’t be taken seriously. Again, it’s a need to be in charge that is making Joyce “de___” me as a loser.
Ten or more years ago, David had to write an _sing or something for school (high school? CACC?). I felt that, by “rank,” I should have been the one to serve as his literary “consultant.” But Leslie was giving that job. Most likely I would have “steered” David down a bad “road.” – I didn’t even have my B.A. at that time – but I felt slighted and insulted. It was at this point that I decided “family unity” would never include me. So I begin to back-off any familial bonds that I had begun.
A bright morning: No doubt we are in for a pounding from Heat and Humidity this afternoon!

(acerca 7:33 A.M.) WASHINGTON WEEK (9-9:30 P.M., P.B.S.) opened my private television viewing yesterday evening. I finished cutting the grass – the front yard only requires forty-five minutes or so with the mower – but, while Kayla was on the premise PAX gameshows and rebroadcast of NBC13 news, and WHO WANTS TO BE A MILLIONAIRE? (8-9:00 P.M., A.B.C.) seeped into the Family Room.
Anything is possible: Good comes from a place one would never expect. For it was PAX and not public television that launched my concentrated study of “Wuthering Heights”! It will be the first time that I have ever specalized in anything except clowning.

(acerca 10:__A.M.) My appeal against the inelgibility decision by the Disability Determination Administration has been awaiting judicial review for a year now! As far as I am concern, the Bargain Town job is just a tie-over, something to cover expenses until the Court date. Surely not another year? You can’t expect me to hold up that long, do you?
I want to recycle some paper, but there’s a problem: Each paper had listed on it notes that I would include in this journal. Only there are several notes that I have not been able to find a place for in my daily reports. Almost, but not quite. For instance: Either Joyce stated this, granny repeated what someone else had said, or this was in print. It is referring to Ronald Reagan, the former president. As you know, he was an actor before his life in politics (first as governor of California). In the other “corner,” we have the LOVE BOAT, the television program that presented “has-been” TV and film “stars,” in dramatic-comedy roles. “If Mr. Reagan had not been president of the United States, he would have been on LOVE BOAT!” was a much-heralded comment by Reagan’s opponents. And the comment was meant in the worse way!
Another note refers to the time during the 1980’s when I was touring with Carson and Barnes Circus, that I was sitting on a toilet while a female (Morales?) was squatting on the seat of one on my right (partition between us: I heard the farting sound as a chunk of feces left her rear end).
There will be other seemingly non-related “facts” from my past: Put each in perspective as you will!

(acerca 1:54 P.M.) And then there was the time in 1995 (or the Fall of 1994) at the University of Alabama in Tuscaloosa: The baritone Samuel Ramey gave a recital at the Moody (?) Recital Hall one evening. During intermission, I think it was, I became involved in a conversation with a young white male, short of statue, that studied Voice at the UAB in Birmingham (I believe he had said U.A.B.). He stated over and over again that his voice teacher was just as good as Mr. Ramey and should be doing recitals, not teaching. The teacher, however, traded a performing career, a precarious livelihood at best, with a teaching career, a much more settled existence and one that offers a better chance at financial security. At the time I thought maybe the teacher wasn’t good enough for the mercurial life of a concert/recital/stage career. Of course, now I know that “good enough” hasn’t anything to do with a performing career: Opportunity and Means (MO) have. Samuel Ramey’s luck more than talent determines the path his career took, just like they determined the path of the teacher.
Thus another page can be recycled.
Less than forty-eight hours for the demanding “sport” of truck-unloading – which, by the way, should be an event in the 2004 Summer Olympics! It’s a bitch that I must arrange my week around that single event, but such it is. I napped earlier, hoping to erase all body pains before Monday morning: But I’ll be damn if I allow juggling to be removed from my schedule! There must be a way for both to co-exist.

(acerca 4:42 P.M.) Years ago I used to work-out during the day, including the evening. I kept my clowning powers alive and strong in this way. My “bond” with Performance was visceral, not cerebral. Without a doubt there was a lot of nervous energy in my system.
I am no longer awaiting exercise with enthusiasm: I consider juggling important and I look forward to practice. But as for barres and movement work-outs – well, I no longer welcome them. And the Pretzel trick: I executed it a while ago, but I had to force myself to take it on. So I’m wondering: Has my mental/emotional/spiritual lifestyle developed in such a way that I could never do clowning again? Physically and intellectually I am better able to be out there and by all rights should. But is there an important variable missing, probably the most critical variable? Clowning, as we all know, is a life style: One doesn’t choose it, it chooses one. Have the Powers-that-be, therefore, abandoned me solely because of my “born again”-ness?
In other words, am I deceiving myself if I think for one moment that I can exercise my way back into the Muse’s graces?

(acerca 7:48 P.M.) Heat was awfully naughty today: The lower-90-degrees (F) were seen lurking around the area.
A 33-minute Bean Bag work-out, a too-short piano practice, weed-eating (a machine, not me): These and reading dominated the day (and, of course, writing in this journal).

(8th, About 8:49 A.M.) If things were different and I wasn’t confined to this town, could Joyce be making this trip out to Wichita Falls, TX? For whatever reasons, she is concern with granny’s health status: Would she have left her by herself for three or four days?
Maybe I shouldn’t even be thinking this way, but my “recall” to Childersburg happened at the right time. No doubt I am rationalizing out my “failure,” but maybe my presence here has been divinely dictated. I could be desperately looking for justification, but the co-incidence is much too flagrant.
And how about the fact that granny wouldn’t be able to be around Kayla as much as she has been and is without the presence of “moi”? So there must be some kind of finagling with my life by some Power going on!
WALKER, TEXAS RANGER (8-9:00 P.M., C.B.S.) and THE DISTRICT (9-10:00 P.M., C.B.S.), both “repeats,” formed my escaped route yesterday evening: If television is the only solution to my troubles, than the situation is a lot worse than I feared!

(acerca 10:16 A.M.) At Bargain Town, merchandise is shelved according to pantigrams (?) attacked to the shelf directly below the item. This is how Louise knows what to order from Raleigh: Using a “gun,” she records the number or something. The first two or three weeks of my employment at Bargain Town, I would stocked the shelves in any way I choose, ignoring the pantagrams(?). I created my own system of grouping items by brand names, putting like items next to one another, etc. Slowly, however, Louise “forced” me into the habit of stocking according to the pantagrams (?): And now I “check-out” the shelves to see if, indeed, the merchandise and the pantigram agree. I may be overzealous in this undertaking: Louise may have created a monster. But isn’t this what she wanted?
What would be worse: ending my life with a circus or a Bargain Town? Damn, what a choice! It’s like asking someone if he or she would rather have his or her ears cut off of eyes plucked out?!
It’s another day to stay away from Phoebus and Heat: I’m sure the low-90-degrees (F) are waiting for us just “around the bend”: And, yes, this would be a _un-day – and a torture-day!

(acerca 12:14 P.M.) I can’t help bur recall, during the March 1996 (?) visit of Steve, Mary, Jesse, and Martin, to my Shoreline Drive “apartment” in Tallahassee, FL, stating to Steve that homeschooling – at that time, this is the way Jesse was receiving his high school education – requires four or five hours a day of reading and study by the learner. In replying, Steve hemmed and hawed and said, ”Well . . .” I couldn’t help but interpret Steve’s response as an admission that home schooling was more a cost-saving measure that it was for Jesse’s intellectual development.
While I am picking on the Holts: It was either the winter of 2000 or the first visit of 2001: I recall distinctly that Mary was sitting on the couch, I in the green arm chair, and Steve in the arm chair whose “back” is facing the back yard (Martin was to his mother’s left, Jesse was not presence). In discussion animal care and what PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) was doing to circuses, I announced that an animal suppose to have so much space per square or cubit inch of animal. For some reason, Mary didn’t respond to what I had said but looked straight ahead.
I stated to Mary (during this visit?) that my writing “career” would be like Emily Dickenson’s, who only had her poems published after her death.
Another time around Mary I was unable to think of a name or something: Mary, very condescendingly, said it would come (meaning my recall of the temporarily forgotten word).
The only thing that I “praise” my past for, is that it provides fodder for this journal. And my memory is kept in shape by attempting to recreate as accurate as possible the details and conversations of months and years ago: It’s fun to enter a “lost world” and present it to an adoring public. (!) (?)

(acerca 2:12 P.M.) The study of history is becoming more and more a “sign of the times.” Reading history is becoming in vogue: Hence the History (Cable) Channel. So maybe my renewed interest (“renewed” my ass!) isn’t a subject that it’s high time I get into, but an attempt at joining accepted, “normal” society: Maybe only by being semi-status quo can I rejuvenate myself on any level.
The afternoon has arrived at the low-90-degrees (F): And Afternoon will keep coming back to the low-90-degrees (F) for at least the next there or four days!

(9th, About 6:18 A.M.) It was the Spring of 1999 (or maybe the Fall of 1998). I was a graduate student at Florida State University in Tallahassee. This particular incident happened in Strozier Library on campus: I had received an e-mail from Leslie. In it she said she noticed how unhappy I was and that every time she saw me I was more unhappy. It wasn’t until two years later when I started reviewing my past volumes of this journal that I realized how right she was! I really haven’t been happy for years – I’m speaking twenty-five or thirty! Although she was incorrect to an extent about that latter: The more I disolve relationships and free myself of excess, un-needed “baggage,” the happier I become. I won’t be happy – truly happy – until I am all alone, Deah not included.
To describe an unrelated event: It was the early Winter of 1988 or 1989 (I’m pretty sure it was the former). I was visiting Richard and Mary Pereles in Louisville, KY. They lived on Fourth Street (?), in a basement “apartment” (it was a tiny place, not unlike what I was living in, in Tuscaloosa, AL, in 1994-95).
Upon arriving at the “apartment,” I was pulling the doorknob towards me, so that the person on the other side (in the “apartment”) wouldn’t be able to open it. I was doing it as a joke. However, I could hear Richard complaining and being his usual negative self. Why in the world did I stay “friends” with the Pereles for 5-6 years is beyond me! I suppose it was the same reason that I kept up a relationship with Steve and Mary Holt all those years!

(acerca 7:36 A.M.) I found where that fourth bean bag was hiding: In the right shoe of that fancy pair of tennis shoes appropriated from the Matlows. Before the zipper became dislodged after walking Deah one afternoon, the pair decorated my feet during my Bargain Town hours. In concert with the three, I included 4-ball (Bean Bag) in a 30-mimute practice.

(acerca 2:16 P.M.) The truck hit and killed a horse this morning: I don’t know any more details beyond that, except that the truck would have been at Bargain Town here in Childersburg, AL, earlier than 11:30 A.M., the time it did show up. And was it ever hot and humid at that “late” hour! Fortunately it didn’t have a big shipment for us. But it was big enough!
Leslie and Kayla brought me home shortly after 1:00 P.M. (they provided the “to work” transportation around 8:45 A.M., this morning). Kayla was dropped off (as was I), and Leslie went to work.
Kayla’s hours yesterday, over here, was about 3:17 P.M. until about 7:43 P.M. Granny again revealed her true self: Instead of watching Kayla – the only reason for the child being over here – in her (granny’s) room, granny expected to answer the telephone’s “ringing,” and not me. It was David. Angry at that point, I told David he would have to call back so granny could answer the phone. He thought I was serious. Of course he is well aware of granny’s ways, so the episode didn’t confuse him. But the idea that granny would neglect Kayla for the telephone! Damn, I thought my purpose for being there was to enable granny to be around Kayla more! Both Joyce and Leslie realize that granny’s time on earth is limited, and feel that she should have the pleasure of Kayla’s company while she can. And me: I don’t care if granny spend time with Kayla of not!

(acerca 2:58 P.M.) Television yesterday: I suppose now is a good time to tell you. From 2:30-3:00 P.M., it was TONY BROWN’S JOURNAL on P.B.S. Of the twenty-five minutes or so (3-3:30 P.M.) that THE MCLAUGHLIN GROUP is aired by P.B.S., I was only able to watch about ten minutes of it before Kayla came over. Later in the evening, after Kayla went home, I took Deah on a walk. As a result, it was 8:06 P.M., before I could sit down and see NATURE (8-9:00 P.M., P.B.S.) However, I did “catch” the entire repeated THE PRACTICE (9-10:00 P.M., A.B.C.).
Did you know that I didn’t know what a Baker’s Rack was until last Wednesday? Independence Day from ignorance I guess: A young couple came to Bargain Town asking for one and I had to admit to them that I didn’t know what a Baker’s Rack was. The store sold them, but, boy, was I embarrassed! Something is wrong somewhere when that can happen!
Kathy (Cathy) asked me last Wednesday if I was getting a raise. Where did that come from? I only wish: It wa_ then be six dollars an hour. And twenty hours at $6/hr would be $120 a week as opposed to $103.00 that I am getting now. I should be so lucky!

(acerca 5:10 P.M.) No wonder my earlier volumes of this journal is so scanty with details: After working all day, I don’t feel the “spirit” to write 3-4 pages! Keeping up this journal is hard work, believe it or not, and clowning, the job at the fairgrounds in Louisville, study/research and the part-time job at the University of Alabama, and graduate study: All were time consuming. For I had eating and other personal “duties” to attend to. There is so much that still needs “recreating,” but even four hours at Bargain Town – especially when truck-unloading is involved – and about four and a half hours of Kayla (Bill came for her around 4:4_ P.M.) don’t leave much time and/or energy for another full-time job. For that’s what journal-keeping should be.
But I can tell you that if I had re-read my journal entries in Tallahassee, I never would have even considered marriage with Anita! If you review the journal for Fall 1997, I questioned the wisdom of such a union.
It is terribly hot out side: the lower-90-degrees (F). Even the evenings don’t offer safe haven from Heat!

(acerca 6:58 P.M.) The cable is out of “service” and there’s only “snow” on the little screen. Is the almospheric conditions bad or is the service of the cable-provider poor? Or both?
It still amazes me that I can’t recall any of the MASTERPIECE THEATRE’s serving of “Wuthering Heights”! And the film version of that novel was just broadcast within the past year: It was a 2-parter, two hours for two consecutive Sunday evenings. What is going on with me? Obviously there’s something bad that I am not aware of!
By my calculations, it really wasn’t until I began to concentrate on this journal that my mental condition improved. Apparently all I needed was a focus: Graduate school almost brought forth one. Notice I said “almost.”
I just hope that MASTERPIECE THEATRE repeats WUTHERING HEIGHTS!

(acerca 7:49 P.M.) I think the movie I was in – LOVE AND FATE – while I was living in Tallahassee (Summer 1996) was amateurish for holding read-throughts and rehearsals at Tallahassee Little Theatre: Several years ago I read about a professional actor that needed Southern speech for a film. So what did he or she do: He or she relied on an amateur actor in Tennessee (I think, or at least some community theatre in the South)! So it is not at all unusual for the professional theatre and the amateur theatre to work together.
A “no-reputation” actor (from Birmingham) was under contract to work Summerfest, a series of musicals held in Birmingham each summer (for the past 29 or 30 at least). His comment: “This is as good as it gets.” He was not complimenting Summerfest, but saying that the professional theatre is professional theatre, whether in New York City, Birmingham, AL, Knoxville, TN, or Portland, OR.
I have a lot more noted for official transfer to this journal, but fatique from a 31-minute Bean Bag juggle still has me focused on that mode of “expression.” The only thing I can do is to keep trying: I may yet the “hang” of this writing yet!

(10th, About 6:22 A.M.) Today’s feature “film” stars Judy McSween, and concerns my having sex with her. She was sitting behind me and I “pushed” my finger (right hand, “Tall Man”) back and forth in her vagina.
Judy, 56 or 57, is still rather attractive. She was my American History teacher in the tenth or eleventh grade of high school. Even Joyce was taught by her! Judy wasn’t a good teacher. She retired from teaching within the last 3-4 years.
Was sex with Judy McSween a metaphor for a subjugation of my past? But why Judy: There were one or two other teachers that are probably still physically appealing. Of course, Judy is still in the town and I don’t think her “rivals” are.
The reason that I rush to write in the early morning or to begin the daily report – is that I try to get something down on paper before the day beat me black and blue and I find myself in no shape for writing. Even those days that I don’t put in four or eight hours at Bargain Town can, surprisingly, be troublesome. There is way too much to put down to allow day to go first!
No wonder Rain came under the cover of darkness: It was a shameful showing! The best It could do was scattered drops even now and then. Hell, it took the entire “night” to lay down any “track” on the road!

(acerca 7:39 A.M.) It was the national news from 5:30 until 6:00 P.M., on A.B.C., N.B.C., and C.B.S. (I would move from one to the other during commercial breaks); the cable returned to operation by 8:30 P.M., allowing me to see BECKER (C.B.S.) until 9:00 P.M., when I switched to P.B.S. and viewed the second part of CHASING THE SUN until 10:00 P.M. Since the next day was a work day, I thought it best to forgo AMERICAN EXPERIENCE: It was a rebroadcast of “Flygirl” anyway. But I don’t work at Bargain Town tomorrow, so . . .
We are being threatened: Phoebus has been ordered off the premises. It is “dark” and gloomy outside. Overcast is lying in wait to ambush Heat. We can expect a visit from Rain and/or Storm later today.
There was really no excuse for not submitting at least a page and a half each and every day in the past, no matter how busy I supposively were! What a mismanagement of time: For 15-20 minutes in the morning and again in the evening would have sufficed. No telling how much I have forgot: For every one recreation, at least a hundred are lost!

(acerca 6:39 P.M.) Let the Thunder roll,
Let the Lightning flash,
Let the Rain begin,
Strike up the band!
__ the tune of the song from the Broadway musical – I have forgotten the name of it, but the lyrics are similar to my incult. After a rather warm day, Storm is almost welcomed with a ticker tape parade: The above poem was written in honor of It (sorry, Storm!).
Twelve hours of Bargain Town duty so far this week: Tomorrow is an “offy,” except for Kayla-keeping. In other words, Bargain Town will not receive my services tomorrow, although Kayla will.
I find it difficult to shift “gears” from laborer to writer: This is what I meant earlier about journal maintenance before I undertake an entirely different focus.
Leslie and Kayla was my “to work” ride this morning; Bill and Kayla was the “away from work” transport this evening around 6:0_ P.M.

(acerca 8:55 P.M.) Let me try to explain something. Actually it’s two things, or rather two occurances that was awful similar: Granny and I have never seen “eye-to-eye” on anything. It wasn’t as bad as it is now, but it has always been obvious that we are not compatible. Leslie, back, oh, fifteen or twenty years ago, commented on the divisiveness between granny and me by declaring that we were like old married people.
Naturally, then, my first “real” romantic relationship with a woman, in the late-1990’s in Tallahassee, FL (around 1998), was with a female who I verbally fought with a lot. One evening at a coffee house on Woodville Highway, an eighth mile or so south of the fairgrounds, the caucasian female manager at that time (late thirties or early-40’s) told Anita and I, at the coffee house for, what, coffee and tea? that we argued too much. For at the time we were heatedly discussing something. And the lady was correct: We did argue way too much. It was another clue that Anita Matlow and I should have never be a team: Everyone but me knew it!
It was in the Spring of 1998 or the Fall of 1997: Once we relocated to Dellview Drive, the Southside of the city was seldom visited.
As one entered the coffee house, the left table by the front window was where Anita and I could have been found.

(11th, About 7:10 A.M.) I use to tell myself that only the ignorant were victimized by telephone scamers, that it would never happen to me. So why didn’t I take my own advice: Never do anything out of desperation! On the afternoon of June 29th, I received via post, an advertisement about the Federal Consolidation Loan Program in Phoenix, AZ, telephone (877) 315-8800. Being overwhelmed by educational loans indebtedness, I was vulnerable for this service: It would supposively combine my undergraduate loan (UNIPAC) and graduate loan (Sallie Mae) into one monthly bill, and, what lured me into the trap, guarantee a 6% interest rate, a rate that would never change (I am now being charged about 8.5 %).
A good rule to live by is the adage, “If something sounds too good to be true, it usually is”: I talked to a David (the name he told to me). He completed a pre-application for me, convincing me to reveal the holders of my loans and other information. Then he wanted to know my Social Security number and like a fool I told him.
David said I could reach him at (800) 658-6801, ext. 232. At the time I thought nothing of the discrepancy in the telephone numbers (the 877-315-8800 for the “main” office, and the one for David). I was told that the pre-application would reach me in about five days from the call. And that I should call him upon receipt of it.
Well, I have yet to receive that “pre-application. It could have been lost in the mail, sure: Such Happens all too Common. But another possibility is that the pre-application is that the pre-application was never sent, that there was never any intention to get it to me! This “business” just wanted to fanagle my Social Security number from me. The way David took me off guard – and I’m sure there were others that “fell” for the deception – by asking a lot of unsuspicious questions was brilliant! I have to give to David: He’s good!
Once again I stress: Never do anything out of desperation!

(acerca 8:02 A.M.) As I was bringing Deah in the house after her matutonal walk around the yard, I bent over to pick her up and carry her to her room. While bending over, however, my eyeglasses fell from my face to the cement drive way. I voia_lly blamed Deah for the mishap. (the lens of the spectacles didn’t scatter on impact as I feared for an instant). People that beat their spouse and/or children engage in such misplacement of blame: Oftentimes things just happen independent of anybody). I wonder what I would have done if the lens had broken!?
I lose my “freedom” today: You know, the freedom to stay in my room in the evenings. Granny and I avoid each other’s company as much as we can: I only sit with Joyce out in the Family Room so as to fulfil a so-called “family requirement” and not be considered too much of a snob. With the temporary addition of David to the household, I will be practicing more family unity.
Speaking of David: If at his age, and point of his career, he has trouble with television as a life’s work, what chance do I have? And too, David may be having second thoughts about television as a profession: “Be careful what you wish for, it may come true,” meaning that maybe Tv is not the place for me to be associated with. I didn’t think I would ever “enjoy” somewhat my job at Bargain Town, and I think I would fancy working in television and I, if given the opportunity to fulfil this wish, may find myself in a horrible, unhappy environment. I mustn’t worry about using my Master’s degree: It is being put to good use in this writing.

(acerca 9:13 A.M.) The low-70-degrees (F), and sunny: Methinks we are in for a hot one today!
I limited myself to just two hours of television yesterday evening: 7-8:00 P.M (THE NEWSHOUR WITH JIM LEHRER, P.B.S.) and from 8-9:00 P.M. (SECRETS OF THE DEAD, P.B.S.). It’s hard enough to retain the information from audio research, anyway – I think best while watching Tv, and the thinking is usual unrelated to the subject at hand. Which is the reason that MASTERPIECE THEATRE’s “Wuthering Heights” has completely left me – and I knew 3-4 hours would be nothing but a waste, time that would be used better in reading the novel “Wuthering Heights.” With Joyce’s return, and David’s being here, and Linda’s visit this weekend (I forgot to tell you about that! Silly me!), and working more beginning next week, my time to get through the novel’s reading will be severely limited shortly.
Kayla is presently over here, having been brought over by her mother around 8:40 A.M.: Kayla’s presence is another restriction.

(acerca 12:38 P.M.) While Louise and I were in the stockroom yesterday afternoon, Claudia, who reported for work around 3:00 P.M., came back to tell us that Cathy saw a mouse in the store Monday morning: I was there but I sure don’t remember hearing her scream. Maybe I was out side on “break,” Well, I asked Louise how much were mice selling for. She answered that they (or we) were giving them away. The joke was almost lost on her, as it was on Claudia. And that wasn’t the first time, either, that an attempt at humor went right over their head.
Heat is becoming more and more harder to managed. In a couple of hours, It will be completely out of control.

(acerca 2:17 P.M.) The material concerning the Federal Loan Consolidation Program arrived by Airborne Express, way past the 5-day I was told “over” the telephone by the male (David). Now, the question is: Do I really want to trust the College Loan Corporation and a Next Student Education Financial Advisor?
Leaving out Independence Day last Wednesday, today is business day #7, not all that late. But “late” is “late”: Is this representative of the service I would receive from the CLC?
I also contacted Office Depot and Office Max by telephone this morning: Don’t expect me to switch to a “real” record book any time soon! An in-person purchase at Office Depot of a 500-page record book is $22 there-abouts. Office Max, home of “free delivery,” charges something like $45 to bring a record book to your place of business. Now I would do anything for You, Journal, You know that, but I must start paying back my student loans and saving for a car, and I may have to ask You to wait a little bit longer before finding a home in the “better part of town.” I still own country dwellings that I can house You in: It will be a long time before I can go ahead and make a down payment on a House of Your Dreams! Please bear with me!

(acerca 5:15 P.M.) Either it’s the impending “take-over” of my isolation or a moratorium of cigarette-smoking, but I am grouchy and a “bitch.” Most likely it’s a little of both: The combination is apparently deadly!
The day’s ending of the second “job” came at 4:25 P.M., when Bill escorted Kayla home. How erpensive these rides to and from work are in reality!
A 34-minute Bean Bag work-out: Anything to help me over these withdrawal pains! As I stated before, the day’s twenty-four hours go by swifter when tobacco is excluded. So am I trying to slow down time whenever I light up or speed it up by barring smoking from my life? Good question!

(acerca 6:42 P.M.) With the tremendous backlog of notes that is cluttering up my room waiting for a chance to appear in this journal, it is grossly unfair to allow a new recall to break in line and get the official nod! But so it happens. And here it is: It was at least fifteen years ago. I was watching a courtroom drama on television in the evening here in Childersburg at granny’s house on 5th Avenue, S.W. One scene is all the years have allowed me to retain: Sitting at the accused table, the lawyer was defending a simpleton. He said to his client – I had forgotten what he was on trial for – something to the effect,
“This guy is brilliant (referring to a witness). He has a I.Q. of __ (some high number). Watch me “tear him to shreds!”, in a sneering manner.
Why does the memory seem to “release” information in bits and pieces every now and then? But then again, if the data came all at once, there’s no way that I could manage it.

(12th, About 7:22 A.M.) One afternoon last week (wasn’t it?) I told Louise, I believe up by the check-out counters, that I was not a morning person. The fact that I don’t report to work until 10:30 A.M., and remain on the job until 7:15 P.M., or so is due to personal availability, but it seem “funny” that this is the first time in more nine weeks that my eight-hour-day is starting so late. Is there a connection between what I told Louise and my mid-morning “clock-in”? 11:00 A.M. to 3:00 P.M., covered my four-hour day the first week of two of my Bargain Town employment, but an eight-hour session?
Tuesday afternoon a gorgeous blonde came back to the stockroom where Louise and I were. She was introduced to me as the manager of the Bargain Town in Talladega. The early-30’s-ish “knock-out” asked to use the restroom. It would have been a great time to begin sniffing toilet seats!

(acerca 8:08 A.M.) Joyce and David got in around 7:30 P.M. yesterday evening, so my television was limited to the first half of the NEWSHOUR WITH JIM LEHRER (7-8:00 P.M., P.B.S.), although I did watch the national news at 5:30-6:00 P.M., switching from A.B.C., N.B.C., and C.B.S.
When I was an undergraduate student the first go-around in the late-1960’s and early-1970’s, I was enrolled in a Black Studies course on summer (1972?). Frederick Douglas was the subject of a special report that I presented. Sunday’s TONY BROWN’S JOURNAL gave a brief summary of his life. In the years between, of course I have heard talk of this Black leader. So I feel as if I must make a clean break of a feeling: Douglas’ father was his mother’s owner, a white slave owner. The disease of racism still ravishing my body – I will never be able to get rid of all of the malady – “evil” thoughts occured to me. Thoughts such as, “Douglas is half-white; no wonder he was so smart!” How can a half and half be a credible Black leader?” Abraham Lincoln had Douglas as an advisor: Of course, Frederick Douglas wasn’t really Black!”
At least I admit my f__lings: So many people won’t. I will never be completely free of the disability of racism, but I have always known how to live with it and deal with it.

(acerca 8:57 A.M.) No doubt I could and should be much more detailed and prolix in most of the ideas I introduced, but often times time makes that impossible. But the point that I was trying to make above was that I don’t allow the small amount of racism remaining in my body to control my day-to-day life. It could very easily: Even 5% racism can do a lot of damage!
Lower-80-degrees (F) with Phoebus outshining Itself: What did we do to deserve such punishment?

(acerca 9:43 A.M.) I take it back: I do remember a scene from the MASTERPIECE THEATRE’s version of “Wuthering Heights.” It was a scene between Heathcliff and Catherine Earnshaw Linton, the former facing (his) right, the latter to (her) left. Heathcliff was shouting to Catherine, “Don’t ever leave me!” or whatever the line was.
Whose knows? I just may remember more and more of the P.B.S. cinematic treatment as time goes on: The movie may be “trapped” in my subconsciousness waiting to get out. And I may get it out.

(acerca 9:13 P.M.) The next two weeks at least I will be working thirty-five plus hours; so don’t expect long reports each day. However, I will do my best.
$190.94: My bi-weekly renumeration for 41 hours: I added $175 to the $54.09 that managed to avoid being checked out. Until I wrote a $50 check to Joyce, and a $50 check to granny, there was $230.03 in my Cash Cache. Technically, there is at the moment: The checks won’t “clear” to at least Monday.
It was an eye-hurter this afternoon. And hot!? Let me tell you!

(13th, About 12:22 A.M.) Did you pay close attention to the day? It’s Friday. And did you notice what the date is today? The thirteenth, Therefore today is Friday the 13th. What better day for my sister Linda to visit?
I am unable to bring closure on yesterday’s Bargain Town work session: Don’t tell me I reaching that stage! Damnit, I don’t suppose to like my job enough to take it home with me! Something is wrong someplace!
Actually, I am thinking about 3-4 padded notebooks, a half-inch thick, that I retrieved from the bins this afternoon: They would make excellent volumes for this journal. I just may buy them the next payday: That pay check will be a lot and I can afford to purchase non-indebtedness items. But why think about it now: There are two weeks to cover before the actual transaction, and the notebooks may well be gone by then!

(acerca 7:58 A.M.) Actually it’s not a question of a post-work bond: It’s more of a matter of post-work bondage. As far as I’m concern, Bargain Town Can stay where it is. It is never welcome at my house, especially during non-work hours. Unfortunately, though, I was being held in bondage late yesterday evening and early this morning. And Bargain Town is still holding me hostage: The after-effects of the massive outlay of physicality that Bargain Town “forces” from me interferes with “normal” life. I need 5-6 hours for a complete transformation from Laborer to sleeper: A 9-6 work day allows such to happen. But 10:30-7:30? Only by extending my after-work day past midnight. And why can’t I: It would be a good time to “catch” up on reading.
Also a major blockage of Sleep yesterday evening and this morning was the cold air permeating the house: Joyce keeps the air conditioning on 76-78-degrees, and, even though I shut down the vent to this room (when I am at work it is opened for Deah, who is hot-blooded) the Cold Air still reaches me by seeping under the bottom space between the floor and the door.
And one of the four cats (David has one) was pushing against a door and creating a thunder-like noise.
All-in-all, it wasn’t one of my better nights!

(acerca 9:01 A.M.) As (bad) luck would have it, my extended work weeks won’t kick-off until next week: I am scheduled for next Friday. Why couldn’t Friday work not been today? I really don’t won’t to see Linda! I’m tempted to volunteer my services today and tomorrow!
I wonder if David’s hasty acceptance of a questionable job out in Wichita Fall, TX, was a desperate attempt to escape Childersburg and Alabama? If so, it didn’t work: Things done out of desperation usually don’t.
A gloomy, dreary day: What else do you expect from Friday the 13th?

(acerca 11:55 A.M.) Yesterday evening, around 9:30 P.M., I went into the Family Room for quality time: Joyce was covering the couch with a sheet, and told me that David was fixing to go to sleep. As a consequence, I went back to my room and watched the second half of MYSTERY! “Hetty Wainthrope Investigates” (9-1_:00 P.M., P.B.S.). Come to find out, however – David told me this morning – Joyce, granny, and David had a “Family Conference” without me! If that is how it will be, than fine. If Joyce and/or granny fear my influence on David, then I will just have to have an uncle-nephew “meeting” when they are not around!
Many times in the past I have avoided the meat that comprises the major part of a “Hobo Casserole” (meat, carrots, potatoes). Granny would harshly criticize me, saying things like, “That meat won’t hurt you!” Well, for the last 2-3 months, Joyce, granny, and I had gone semi-vegetarian (we still partake of chicken, eggs, cheese, milk) for various reasons, one being the cost of meat. Last night David was telling us about a child that had taken a bite of a hamburger and discovered maggots only after he had swallowed the meat. The kid vomited, and the mother had shown it to the food preparer. Joyce replied, “This is why we don’t eat hamburgers!” I announced that I had had a cheeseburger that afternoon, and Joyce answered smart-assy, “Not here!” When Joyce’s true self comes out, no wonder Leslie swears her childhood was a horror. I have proof! And to be condemned for not eating meat, and then for partaking of meat, . . . you can see the type of life I am subjected to!

(acerca 12:20 P.M.) David has been re-hired by NBC13 in Birmingham: Unlike me, he did not “burn the bridge” behind him when he left that station for KAUZ. Will I ever be picked up be a television station, or is Bargain Town the best I can do? Am I being locked out of Tv by external factors beyond my control, i.e. my age, or is the Muse (who is also beyond my control) and other “other-worldly” forces keeping me on a level where I belong and have always belong?
By the way, Joyce was right about Laurie (my niece who calls herself Rosie): She only wanted money for drugs when she made telephone contact one morning a week or so ago. Otherwise she would have written a letter to this address. She is not pregnant; she and her husband and child (Ma_k are not living in Carson City, Nevada; she doesn’t own a computer – I have yet to receive an e-mail from her. According to Joyce, Rosie deserted her husband and child, and is “hooking” for drugs. Her mother, Jane, having abandoned her to her father after a divorce, no wonder this has happened to Rosie. The woman need help: And so does Rosie!

(acerca 1:24 P.M.) I juggled for over thirty minutes. But who cares? People may wonder why I work at Bargain Town, or a carnival, or some other “lowly job; yet these same people are not willing to pay to see me clown and/or juggle! David found out in Wichita Falls what it’s like to transfer something one’s good at to the level of people paying to see it. Let’s hope that he never finds himself in the shape that I am in and will probably stay the rest of my life.
The cool lower-80-degrees (F) protect us from the “take-no-prisoners” 90-degrees (F). Phoebus is grinning at this joke: I’m glad it was funny to somebody at least!

(acerca 2:14 P.M.) An on-camera reporter for a television studio can easily “burn” him- or herself “out” if he or she is not careful. Such is what happened to David out in Wichita Falls: According to Joyce, Nicole, the weather “boss,” would schedule David for too much on-camera appearance. He was not used properly: Nicole mis-managed him, and took advantage of his love of Tv weather reporting.
In spite of this abuse, however (or maybe because of it), David improved greatly. He received the confidence required for performing. KAUZ was a near-perfect apprenticeship environment. So far David is arranging and managing his career very well. His will someday be a career that he can be proud of in thirty years. He will have the career in television that I initially had planned before things became side-tracked.

(acerca 6:58 P.M.) Y2K 1’s second Friday the 13th – the first one was in April – has displayed restraint: Heat has been too superstitious to be overly oppressive today. Likewise, Humidity has toned down. It is an early Fall day, a welcomed edition to the usual cruelties of Month VII.
Even Linda’s visit is not as torturous as I expected! But there are five more hours that the 13th can still turn on us for evil purposes. Maybe It won’t.

(acerca 7:35 P.M.) Is grandparenting (which includes great uncles) a redoing of a period in one’s past? Linda told Leslie that being a mother and being a grandmother are two totally different things. But isn’t it that this latter only the former with trial and error out of the picture? Can one enjoy grandmothership without having been a mother? Or father? Or uncle? It’s not grandparenting per se that is so great, but the ability to defeat mistakes, the ability to stick one’s tongue out at the past.

(14th, About 7:27 A.M.) I was telling Joyce yesterday evening – I was aseated in my usual armchair seat and Joyce was on my left, sitting on the south end of the couch, facing the backyard, Linda had gone back to her motel room – that qualifications for jobs were always strigent and tough. But when it comes to actually displaying those qualities, now that will get you into trouble quicker than hell! Never, ever come off smarter, more talented, and/or superior to your boss! That’s the faster road to failure! David’s main problem out in Wichita Falls was that he was much more dedicated and a lot better than Nicole, the so-called weather director. And such highlights the incompetency and the lack of talent in that boss.
In fact, the Job Qualification portion of a job listing, in most cases, has nothing to do with getting the job or not. Such is why labor laws have been enacted: People are hired for reasons that have whatsoever to do with qualifications: One’s race, gender, handicap, sexual preference, age – all of these factors, and many more, determines one’s employability. You would think that, with all the numerous laws enacted to remove the above factors from consideration employment would be easier to get. But one has to be from the planet Mars and/or naïve as hell to think that they do. It may be worse in some ways now!

(acerca 9:08 A.M.) I was able to “escape” from the world by watching WASHINGTON WEEK – a round-table discussion about the world – and ROCK AND ROLL. This video marathon begin at 9:00 P.M. and continued until 10:30 P.M, on P.B.S.
A bright, coolish – 75-degrees; coolish? I don’t think so! - morning. It’s not as bad as it sounds: Humidity is out of town on “business.”

(acerca 11:30 A.M.) Remember me telling you that people came into my life to fulfil certain functions and then disappeared, as if on “command”? Well, take the case of Verna Safran (?), the older woman in Tallahassee that had the “hots” for me but accused me of wanting to “hump” her: She told me one evening – I lived with her for several months – that a good marriage resulted when the spouses were polite and curtious to each other, apologizing for peccadillos and social faux pases. Just becaust the man and woman are husband and wife don’t mean they shouldn’t treat th other person with dignity and respect.
For a divorced woman that was a bitch, this was a wonderful piece of advise! Although maybe she should have followed her own “trade secret”!

(acerca 1:21 P.M.) Whenever I get a chance to go to the library, I should: With an “unregulated” work schedule, my sessions with a computer is rather limited. I had planned, for the past 2-3 days, to visit the library this morning. However, I “felt” that it would be rude and crass of me to fulfil a self-indulgence with a trip to the downtown computer center: I’m an asshole enough as it is! Even though I wanted to keep away from Linda as much as possible, I “cancelled” my visit.
Around 9:15 A.M., this morning, though, Joyce asked me if I could get ready quickly and go to the library: It seems that Linda wanted to visit with granny alone, just the two of them (Joyce and David tool the Ryder truck back to a rental “outlet” about 25 miles northeast). I hurriedly bathed and brushed my teeth.
The back of David’s pick-up truck was my transportation to and from the library. I did “business” for about two hours: Mainly reading about “Wuthering Heights.”
A week ago yesterday I contacted Vic Camillo and Doug Green, via e-mail, concerning any photographs and/or paintings of Luigi: As expected, neither replied, imforming me once and for all what kind of people I were involved with all those years and weeks, ago!

(acerca 2:27 P.M.) Rain and/or Storm could make It’s/Their presence know anytime soon: I guess Humidity will be where It wants to be, and nothing will stop it!
If Linda doesn’t want me around, it won’t hurt my feelings! Hell, I will even make it so that she doesn’t even have to hint at such!

(acerca 3:50 P.M.) Linda Lingo, the Office Manager of Carson and Barnes Circus while I was with that show, tried to warn me about Vic and Bobbie Camillo! But did I listen? No-o-oh!! As a consequence, I befriended a couple of pretentious, middle-class scum bags!
Of course, Linda herself was (is?) the type of person that is not customarily ascribed credibility. It was a case of low life scrum bag calling others low life scrum bags: I doubt if anyone would have believed Linda Lingo! (xontinued)




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