The Moving Finger Writes...

I invented a new food: Yogurt and pop rocks rocks!

A week ago, a man appeared at my upstairs door. He had come in the unlocked downstairs door. I do not recognize him. "You walked into my apartment without knocking. Please go." I am thinking I really should keep the downstairs door locked.

The tall, dark man stands his ground.
"Is this the apartment? Where do I find the apartment for rent?"

"I don't know. You are in the wrong place. You are in my house, and I am asking you to leave." I notice I do-not-use use contractions when I am speaking firmly to ward off weird strangers.

"But the apartment. This the apartment?"

"Leave. Now. Or I will call the police. Leave."

He keeps talking in my living room, a big, anxious man. I dial 911. He finally turns to go. At the bottom of the stairs, he spills his bag. Jason thinks he is stalling. I tell the 911 dispatcher, "It's OK, I am calling about a strange man who walked into my apartment, but he's leaving now." As I speak, Isee Jason shoving the guy's things into his satchel. Jason almost shoves my little tent into the stranger's satchel. Finally, the stranger is gone.

911 lets me off the hook, and no officer shows up to investigate.

But I keep thinking, if he was looking for a place to stay,
I could just stock cheap pup tents and say,
"Here's a tent, and there... is a park."

Posted by Goddess at 10:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Lochel, also known as Atari, asked what to call me. Last time we met, I told him, "Right Seat," the copilot's seat. This time I said, "Devolution."

I was with Emily and Jason at La Note, and as if that wasn't magical and special enough, the end of the meal (on the patio, no less) was graced by the arrival of the Hate Man. He won't recognize your speech until you say, "I hate you." And you can't qualify it, either. "I hate you, not really," does not cut the mustard.

Emily, she said, "But I don't hate you," and Atari said, "If I was President Bush standing here, could you say it, could you say you hate me?" Oh yeah, Emily said forcefully, "I HATE YOU." And that was enough.

Lochel spoke of keeping both the negative and positive alive, on two separate channels, "I don't like the hairs you leave in the soap, but hey I also love you man for being my brother, or whatever."

Emily was so glowing glad to meet the Hate Man. I think she needed him. I needed him when I met him last February. Ironically, people generally like the Hate Man. I gave him a few books, which due to their subject nature, tickled his Hate Man fancy.

The Hate Man: Just as good the second time!

Posted by Goddess at 12:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)