I guess I’m crazy. Phebe was home from work today to be with the baby. First thing in the morning there’s this call. Phebe says it’s Dr. Hardik. She thinks the call is for an appointment. Swami says he’ll pay me a hundred dollars if I show up with my truck in Newburgh to dispense refuse posthaste. So I spent most of the day throwing out the contents of one of Swami’s vacated apartments. Lots of broken furniture full of roaches. This surly dude climbed into the bed of my truck at one point and began slicing open a soiled mattress until he found a plastic bag of what I’m guessing was crack cocaine stashed inside. He got what he wanted I guess. Left me alone. I was plenty scared though, thought I’d shit my pants. On the way to the dump I drove along the river, noticed police activity along the river bank.
Looking out across Newburgh Bay I got to thinking a little about the Phebe Reynolds story I’m supposed to writing. I was thinking how impressive it was for the Continental Army to float a great chain across the Hudson on logs the way they did at that spot. That wouldn’t be so easy to do today either even with our technology. Suppose you could have the chain links float on top a line of soiled mattresses cleaned out of Dr. Hardik’s vacated apartments spanning clear across to Beacon.
Later I heard on the radio the body of an unidentified male was pulled from the river. Maybe they found Porch Rot.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
03/23/01
I asked Swami yesterday how Cornelius was doing. He said he didn’t know. I guess Cornelius cussed him out and walked off the job some time recently.
So much for Cornelius being rewarded by Swami for his steadfast service with his own lush riparian oasis of the proportion of Eden.
Maybe you would like to take over his position, Swami says to me to my astonishment.
I don’t know why, but my reply of ‘no’ came after some hesitation. Phebe’s got me housebound with the care of the baby most days. I practically have to beg for pocket money from her. Somehow the thought of a job--- my own way of making money apart from hauling scrap metal to Middletown--- seemed attractive at that moment even while knowing the job involved servitude to an asshole slumlord. All I ask is to have some time outside of the house once in a while and some money of my own in my pocket. Is that too much to ask, Phebe?
I’m becoming Betty Fucking Crocker.
I’ve been letting Phebe handle all the communication with Rocky’s lawyer. I haven’t really been able to face it. I just have these depressing thoughts that Rocky will either be killed in prison or I’ll be dead before he ever gets out---that we’ll never walk together again in freedom. Not to say we ever got along very well before that we took walks together, but you know what I mean. There’s no happy outcome that I can see. From what I can gather from Phebe it looks like they’re working on a plea deal for Rocky to admit to manslaughter with a certain number of years added on to his sentence.
The idea of me possibly being Mookie’s main father-figure growing up seems way too screwed up to me.
So much for Cornelius being rewarded by Swami for his steadfast service with his own lush riparian oasis of the proportion of Eden.
Maybe you would like to take over his position, Swami says to me to my astonishment.
I don’t know why, but my reply of ‘no’ came after some hesitation. Phebe’s got me housebound with the care of the baby most days. I practically have to beg for pocket money from her. Somehow the thought of a job--- my own way of making money apart from hauling scrap metal to Middletown--- seemed attractive at that moment even while knowing the job involved servitude to an asshole slumlord. All I ask is to have some time outside of the house once in a while and some money of my own in my pocket. Is that too much to ask, Phebe?
I’m becoming Betty Fucking Crocker.
I’ve been letting Phebe handle all the communication with Rocky’s lawyer. I haven’t really been able to face it. I just have these depressing thoughts that Rocky will either be killed in prison or I’ll be dead before he ever gets out---that we’ll never walk together again in freedom. Not to say we ever got along very well before that we took walks together, but you know what I mean. There’s no happy outcome that I can see. From what I can gather from Phebe it looks like they’re working on a plea deal for Rocky to admit to manslaughter with a certain number of years added on to his sentence.
The idea of me possibly being Mookie’s main father-figure growing up seems way too screwed up to me.
03/22/01
Percy drove me and the baby back to Newburgh today to see Betty and Fauntleroy. Percy was happy to talk over a practice schedule with Fauntleroy for the cricket team. At one point Fauntleroy asked me what position I was going to play on the team. I said as far as I was aware I wasn’t on the team.
And then Fauntleroy says to Percy: No, no, Mon! Me and Joseph are a pockidge! I will only play on the team if Joseph plays. We are a pockidge deal, Mon!
I told Fauntleroy I didn’t know a thing about the game. He told me not to worry, that he would be the captain and he would let me know what to do.
Percy is like: But I thought I would be the captain. . .
No Mon.
Apparently Betty’s daughter got out of jail somehow. I asked Betty where she was. She says with half her face slackened: The hell if I know!
I managed to get seen by Swami Hard Salami while I was out that way.
Percy tried to complain to Swami about Fauntleroy taking over as captain of the team.
Of course he should be captain, Swami says with blunt cruelty, your breadth of experience in cricket is quite miniscule and inconsequential while Fauntleroy’s is very, very substantial. There is literally no comparison!
Swami asked me if I was still having delusions that my farm property was worth 5 million dollars. He wrote me out a new script for anti-depressants. At least now on paper I’m back in compliance with my probation terms. Don’t delude yourself into thinking I’ll actually be taking those damn pills though.
And then Fauntleroy says to Percy: No, no, Mon! Me and Joseph are a pockidge! I will only play on the team if Joseph plays. We are a pockidge deal, Mon!
I told Fauntleroy I didn’t know a thing about the game. He told me not to worry, that he would be the captain and he would let me know what to do.
Percy is like: But I thought I would be the captain. . .
No Mon.
Apparently Betty’s daughter got out of jail somehow. I asked Betty where she was. She says with half her face slackened: The hell if I know!
I managed to get seen by Swami Hard Salami while I was out that way.
Percy tried to complain to Swami about Fauntleroy taking over as captain of the team.
Of course he should be captain, Swami says with blunt cruelty, your breadth of experience in cricket is quite miniscule and inconsequential while Fauntleroy’s is very, very substantial. There is literally no comparison!
Swami asked me if I was still having delusions that my farm property was worth 5 million dollars. He wrote me out a new script for anti-depressants. At least now on paper I’m back in compliance with my probation terms. Don’t delude yourself into thinking I’ll actually be taking those damn pills though.
03/21/01
Before I even had a chance to call Dr. Hardik this morning to reschedule an appointment with him I found him standing at my door. It was first thing in the morning. Percy brought him over.
The tract is in dire need, Swami Hard Salami says, so desolate! But development would not be impossible! I would imagine all this land would perk well on these elevated areas, although those lower areas may not. Your street could be cut in right about here. Or here through where the house is. It is so lamentable you have such unrealistic ideas about price! I could have $800,000 in your pocket for this place, posthaste. I am very serious about that. You should seriously consider! $800,000 is a very reasonable and appropriate sum! Very reasonable and appropriate!
Percy’s wasn’t expecting all this real estate business. His only interest was in getting me take him and Swami to see Fauntleroy to recruit Fauntleroy for the cricket team. I guess Percy wasn’t aware that Swami had promised to stop by the farm to see it when the weather got better. My main interest in the whole thing was getting something in writing from Swami to give to Cupid Boy that said I didn’t need to be on medication anymore, but Swami quickly seized upon my request as leverage in his deal making.
If you are telling me this clapped out dairy is worth 5 million dollars in this current state than most certainly you are delusional and in need of administration of medication. Conversely, if you told me you would accept $850,000 for the property--- which I would say is a very reasonable and appropriate offer---then one may feel comfortable enough with the progress of the depressive episode to recommend the end of the medication regime.
Well, that didn’t get anywhere. Apparently I’m still profoundly delusional.
Fauntleroy said yes to playing on the team. He looked in pretty rough shape though. When he stood up, sounded like a dozen bones cracking at once.
Betty’s looking in pretty rough shape too. They were disappointed I didn’t bring the baby over. Baby stayed with Phebe. I’ll have to go back soon. Betty said her daughter’s in jail in Goshen right now. She asked if I had any money to get her out. I told her no. She looked at me like she didn’t believe me.
The tract is in dire need, Swami Hard Salami says, so desolate! But development would not be impossible! I would imagine all this land would perk well on these elevated areas, although those lower areas may not. Your street could be cut in right about here. Or here through where the house is. It is so lamentable you have such unrealistic ideas about price! I could have $800,000 in your pocket for this place, posthaste. I am very serious about that. You should seriously consider! $800,000 is a very reasonable and appropriate sum! Very reasonable and appropriate!
Percy’s wasn’t expecting all this real estate business. His only interest was in getting me take him and Swami to see Fauntleroy to recruit Fauntleroy for the cricket team. I guess Percy wasn’t aware that Swami had promised to stop by the farm to see it when the weather got better. My main interest in the whole thing was getting something in writing from Swami to give to Cupid Boy that said I didn’t need to be on medication anymore, but Swami quickly seized upon my request as leverage in his deal making.
If you are telling me this clapped out dairy is worth 5 million dollars in this current state than most certainly you are delusional and in need of administration of medication. Conversely, if you told me you would accept $850,000 for the property--- which I would say is a very reasonable and appropriate offer---then one may feel comfortable enough with the progress of the depressive episode to recommend the end of the medication regime.
Well, that didn’t get anywhere. Apparently I’m still profoundly delusional.
Fauntleroy said yes to playing on the team. He looked in pretty rough shape though. When he stood up, sounded like a dozen bones cracking at once.
Betty’s looking in pretty rough shape too. They were disappointed I didn’t bring the baby over. Baby stayed with Phebe. I’ll have to go back soon. Betty said her daughter’s in jail in Goshen right now. She asked if I had any money to get her out. I told her no. She looked at me like she didn’t believe me.
Monday, September 5, 2011
03/20/01
Told Phebe I was going to head out to visit Percy for a while, but what I was really setting out to do was talk to his neighbor there, Cupcake, try to let her know I really didn’t want to get stuck at this point fixing her Winnebago---that I didn't want to hear any complaining about it neither through her boyfriend, my probation officer. But Cupcake wasn’t home. Percy said she hasn’t been seen in the last 2 days. I guess Cupid Boy has been stopping by at all hours day and night knocking on the girl’s door.
I think one of the times he stopped by she had another guy in there with her, but they acted like no one was home and just let the poor guy keep knocking. It was so annoying!
So anyway, my whole mission in going over there was to unburden myself of an obligation someone thought I made to them, and what does Percy do? He brings up his damn Mythopoetic Men’s Group/ Get Revenge On My Old Boyfriend Cricket Team.
Didn’t you say you’d help me get your relative Fauntleroy to play on my cricket team this summer?
No!
Really Joseph, after all that I’ve done for you! Opening my home to you in the dead of Winter when you had no where else to go!
Makes me almost want to go back to taking the meds Swami Hard Salami says I need to stay on.
Shit! I think I was supposed to have an appointment with him today too!
I tried to write some on the Phebe Reynolds novel so I could have something to show for myself, but all my fucked up brain kept thinking about was how an airplane wing creates lift by forcing air to travel a longer distance over the top of the wing than the bottom. That was from a book I read in Percy’s library when I was living there.
How do trust a fucking airplane to stay in the air relying on such a stupid principle, I ask?
Yeah, fucked up brain alright. . .
I think one of the times he stopped by she had another guy in there with her, but they acted like no one was home and just let the poor guy keep knocking. It was so annoying!
So anyway, my whole mission in going over there was to unburden myself of an obligation someone thought I made to them, and what does Percy do? He brings up his damn Mythopoetic Men’s Group/ Get Revenge On My Old Boyfriend Cricket Team.
Didn’t you say you’d help me get your relative Fauntleroy to play on my cricket team this summer?
No!
Really Joseph, after all that I’ve done for you! Opening my home to you in the dead of Winter when you had no where else to go!
Makes me almost want to go back to taking the meds Swami Hard Salami says I need to stay on.
Shit! I think I was supposed to have an appointment with him today too!
I tried to write some on the Phebe Reynolds novel so I could have something to show for myself, but all my fucked up brain kept thinking about was how an airplane wing creates lift by forcing air to travel a longer distance over the top of the wing than the bottom. That was from a book I read in Percy’s library when I was living there.
How do trust a fucking airplane to stay in the air relying on such a stupid principle, I ask?
Yeah, fucked up brain alright. . .
Sunday, September 4, 2011
03/19/01
Cupid Boy got on my ass today about not reporting my change of address to him. Fuck head.
I didn’t change my address, I say, I went home. I’m back at my legal address. You know where to find me!
And then he lets me know he’s unhappy about me promising to fix his girlfriend’s Winnebago and then not following through.
Do you realize she has only to the end of the month to get it off the lot or else it could be sold at auction?
So what, I think to myself, you gonna make fixing Cupcake’s fuckmobile a term and condition of my probation?
You really should make an effort to live up to your promises, he says.
Fuck head.
Did some serious daydreaming before. Tried to imagine life around here during the Revolutionary War. Thought maybe I could get somewhere with the story I’m supposed to be writing about Phebe’s namesake Phebe Reynolds. But it didn’t work. My mind slipped back further in time---way back further--- to the retreat of the glaciers. To when the mastodon were still roaming around here, being hunted by Paleolithic man. There is only one mastodon left anywhere. A tribe tries to protect it as a sacred being but it proves impractical to guard. Fearing it will inevitably be lost to a rival tribe, it is sacrificed and consumed. The last of the mighty mastodon.
Not sure that would steam up Phebe’s panties though.
I didn’t change my address, I say, I went home. I’m back at my legal address. You know where to find me!
And then he lets me know he’s unhappy about me promising to fix his girlfriend’s Winnebago and then not following through.
Do you realize she has only to the end of the month to get it off the lot or else it could be sold at auction?
So what, I think to myself, you gonna make fixing Cupcake’s fuckmobile a term and condition of my probation?
You really should make an effort to live up to your promises, he says.
Fuck head.
Did some serious daydreaming before. Tried to imagine life around here during the Revolutionary War. Thought maybe I could get somewhere with the story I’m supposed to be writing about Phebe’s namesake Phebe Reynolds. But it didn’t work. My mind slipped back further in time---way back further--- to the retreat of the glaciers. To when the mastodon were still roaming around here, being hunted by Paleolithic man. There is only one mastodon left anywhere. A tribe tries to protect it as a sacred being but it proves impractical to guard. Fearing it will inevitably be lost to a rival tribe, it is sacrificed and consumed. The last of the mighty mastodon.
Not sure that would steam up Phebe’s panties though.
03/18/01
Phebe didn’t bring up the subject this morning of me falling asleep on the couch. I’m sure she was wondering why I didn’t stay with her, but she wasn‘t pressing me to say. She just tried to flatter me with a bunch of compliments. Said she noticed I lost a lot of weight, that all those months in the cold trailer eating oatmeal seemed to do some good. She also said she was impressed with my knowledge of the Revolutionary War used in my novel. Yeah, if only the novel existed. In reality it was all information I had heard from Percy, but how was she going to know that.
Yeah, the Iron Act was a big factor in the Revolutionary War, I regurgitated. I thought for sure Phebe would be bored out of her mind, but she was listening intently. I think it was enacted in 1750. The British had depleted much of their forests by then and relied on their colonies to supply pig iron to make finished metal products in England. Pig Iron is sort of the raw unfinished iron that comes out of the ore when you heat it up. You need a whole lot of wood energy to produce it. The finished metal products come from pounding and shaping the pig iron in a forge. The British wouldn’t allow that pounding and shaping process to take place here, you see, because they had factories all set up in England they wanted to keep supplied. They also wanted to profit from selling the finished goods back to the colonists and tax it as an import item. But the temptation was great for an iron mine owner here in this area to take some of the pig iron they were producing and take the next step in manufacturing in defiance of the law. Over in Bellvale the British destroyed a forge, and when the war broke out, most of the people in the neighborhood joined the rebellion as they had remembered what happened to their forge. It made the difference in keeping the iron mining region in the hands of the Continental Army. The people might have stayed loyal otherwise.
That’s good, Phebe said, but I hope you don’t sound like a professor like that in the novel.
Yeah, the Iron Act was a big factor in the Revolutionary War, I regurgitated. I thought for sure Phebe would be bored out of her mind, but she was listening intently. I think it was enacted in 1750. The British had depleted much of their forests by then and relied on their colonies to supply pig iron to make finished metal products in England. Pig Iron is sort of the raw unfinished iron that comes out of the ore when you heat it up. You need a whole lot of wood energy to produce it. The finished metal products come from pounding and shaping the pig iron in a forge. The British wouldn’t allow that pounding and shaping process to take place here, you see, because they had factories all set up in England they wanted to keep supplied. They also wanted to profit from selling the finished goods back to the colonists and tax it as an import item. But the temptation was great for an iron mine owner here in this area to take some of the pig iron they were producing and take the next step in manufacturing in defiance of the law. Over in Bellvale the British destroyed a forge, and when the war broke out, most of the people in the neighborhood joined the rebellion as they had remembered what happened to their forge. It made the difference in keeping the iron mining region in the hands of the Continental Army. The people might have stayed loyal otherwise.
That’s good, Phebe said, but I hope you don’t sound like a professor like that in the novel.
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