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a good laugh

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I hear them all laughing downstairs, my neighbors, but I'm up here, plugged in. I don't really know my neighbors. I know their faces, what cars they drive, I've got most of their phone numbers but I would never use them. I know when they come and when they go. Sometimes in the summer on the hottest days we'll all gather around on the porch outside and drink mixed drinks all afternoon trading stories of when we were all different and very far away from here. Then we talk about sex. We always talk about sex. It's an interesting bunch, the group that lives in the building. Very diverse. But I'm still up here and they're down there.

Hmm...

I've been ignoring you lately. Not posting as I should. But let me tell you, it isn't from lack of work. It's just that I've been doing things that very few of you can't, won't ever see. Ah well... Doesn't make my life any easier when I sit down to write here. You see, maybe I'd rather be downstairs laughing about sex with the crushed ice of a mixed drink blending in with smoke and rum. Maybe I'd rather forget the pile of books around me for awhile. I say that, and I follow that feeling sometimes, but the truth of it is after a few drinks down there I'd wish I was back up here and start looking for a convienient time to make an exit. An appropriate lull in the conversation. A need to run upstairs for some more ice. A need to run...

Anyway. To what books do I owe the distraction? Well let's see. This weekend I went down to Charlotte where I grew up to wish my Grandfather a very happy 80th birthday. 80 years old... While I was there I went to the attic as usual to look at the things of mine left after my departure ten years ago. Not much. A few trophies. Some things from grade school. See, what I don't have was sold when I left. My Mom was moving and didn't have space in the new place for my things. So I left Charlotte Sunday night with the last five of my books and a stuffed goldfish. Yeah, a stuffed goldfish. Please don't ask...

So now I've five more books piled around me. One struck me inparticular. I haven't read it in over ten years. Hell I haven't read any of them in over ten years but this one I've see mentioned quite a lot recently and I figure maybe it's time I give it another go around. Walden. Most of you know the book. Mine is a torn edition printed in 1962. Inside, two pages into Baker Farm is a play money cardboard coin. It says if I save 500 of them I can have ten full size candy bars free of charge. Only 499 to go. I also have Mutiny on the Bounty, The Bridge Over the River Kwai, a book on Bonsai, and a copy of The Grimm's Tales. That's all I've left from Charlotte. It's all out of the town now. I've left nothing behind me. No friends, no ex-girlfriends, no old haunts. See Charlotte has done it's best to pave over who I was. Tearing down my old places of employment. The sub-divisions I used to hang out in were under construction then and on the outskirts of the city. Now they're in the heart. Honest. Ah well...

Now that I've said what I have to say I believe I need a good laugh...

goodnight 2.23.98