Phebe proposed this morning that Percy and I go to Newburgh to spend time with Fauntleroy, try to lift his spirits. So we headed out, picked Fauntleroy up, but next thing I know Percy’s picking up Swami Hard Salami too. I’m thinking, how did this asshole get invited along? Soon becomes apparent that Percy and Swami have been talking over for some time going out on a date together to see Along Came a Spider. I’m not happy at all, but I don’t want to say anything about being afraid to watch that shit. I hate that twisted psychological shit. Fucks my dreams up.
No, no, I want to see ‘Joe Dirt’ instead, I offer.
Percy and Swami just start howling with laughter. I almost thought Percy might run the car off the road he was cracking up so bad.
What’s so funny? I ask a bunch of times.
It would not be advisable to explain, Swami says, therefore it is not advisable to persist with that question.
Fucking asshole.
Dr. Hardik and I were talking the other day about going to see ‘Along Came a Spider’, Percy manages to explain as Swami continues to struggle to regain his composure, and Dr. Hardik asked if you would be going with us. I joked, “No, I’m sure Joe would rather see ‘Joe Dirt’ instead.”
And then all of a sudden Fauntleroy speaks up for me, killing their crap: If Joseph would like to see ‘Joe Dirt’, then that is the movie I think we should all see together. I would like to see ‘Joe Dirt’ today.
You want to see Joe Dirt? I say, I’m sitting right here, Fauntleroy. Fauntleroy and I get our turn at a chuckle. Percy and Swami were stewing quietly in disappointment all of a sudden. All I know I loved the look on their fucking faces when we walked past the door to the theater showing Along Came a Spider. Percy put out one of those Al Gore sighs of his. Swami shook his head from side to side bitterly, seemed to spend most of the movie making trips to the bathroom.
Yeah, I have to say, after all that, probably woulda been better off seeing Along Came a Spider.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Monday, February 20, 2012
04/13/01
Here it is Good Friday, Friday the 13th. Betty passed away last night. Phebe and I brought some food out to Fauntleroy earlier. He was pretty stoic about the whole thing. I asked him about services not realizing there wouldn’t be any.
She’ll be cremated, he says. Dat’s all, Mon. Maybe you can help me sprinkle her ashes in the river someday.
I was trying to be on my best behavior, but I got into a loud argument with Phebe in the car on the way home, woke the baby up in the car seat. It all went back to when Cupid Boy told me he planned to file probation violation on me. After that I mentioned to Phebe she needed somewhere else to put the guns. I didn’t really discuss with her where they would go, just that they needed to get out of the house since I was back living there. I don’t know what I was thinking not staying on top of it.
You said to get the guns out of the house! She says.
You took my guns to fucking Stash Skimington’s?
We got back home and Cupcake was there giving me hell for keeping the gate to the lane locked up. How am I supposed to get to my camper?
I told her she needed to get the camper off the place. She was fuming. They won’t allow me to keep that in my neighborhood!
I was fuming too. You’re not welcome to keep it here any longer! This is my property, not yours! That’s that!
I got in my truck to go drive around for a while, tried to clear my head. Went into Probation Officer Barbie’s neighborhood, saw a bunch of police cars surrounding her house with the lights all going. Found out later on Barbie’s husband shot himself in the head. Someone interviewed on the news just now said it was a good thing the rest of the family was in a shelter, or else they might have been killed too.
Some fucked up shit right there.
She’ll be cremated, he says. Dat’s all, Mon. Maybe you can help me sprinkle her ashes in the river someday.
I was trying to be on my best behavior, but I got into a loud argument with Phebe in the car on the way home, woke the baby up in the car seat. It all went back to when Cupid Boy told me he planned to file probation violation on me. After that I mentioned to Phebe she needed somewhere else to put the guns. I didn’t really discuss with her where they would go, just that they needed to get out of the house since I was back living there. I don’t know what I was thinking not staying on top of it.
You said to get the guns out of the house! She says.
You took my guns to fucking Stash Skimington’s?
We got back home and Cupcake was there giving me hell for keeping the gate to the lane locked up. How am I supposed to get to my camper?
I told her she needed to get the camper off the place. She was fuming. They won’t allow me to keep that in my neighborhood!
I was fuming too. You’re not welcome to keep it here any longer! This is my property, not yours! That’s that!
I got in my truck to go drive around for a while, tried to clear my head. Went into Probation Officer Barbie’s neighborhood, saw a bunch of police cars surrounding her house with the lights all going. Found out later on Barbie’s husband shot himself in the head. Someone interviewed on the news just now said it was a good thing the rest of the family was in a shelter, or else they might have been killed too.
Some fucked up shit right there.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
04/12/01
Percy keeps emailing all kinds of shit to me on the Revolutionary War. I keep reading the shit and then wishing I hadn’t. Every time I read something that tells me about how things really happened around here it pretty much wrecks the picture I had in my mind for my story and it’s like I have to start over again, forming the picture again in my mind with the new information being taken into consideration.
For a time Percy wanted to write about Washington’s Masonic activities while the Continental Army was camped here at the end of the war---The ‘Temple of Virtue’ that Washington built at Temple Hill in New Windsor and all that--- but he said he’s had to put that on hold while he works on his Crypto-Judaism in New Paltz shit.
Anyway, here’s a little of what Eager had to say about the Temple of Virtue:
On lands located by Haskins, and afterwards known the Duzenberry farm, during the Revolution, and while the army was stationed in that vicinity, General Washington erected a large temporary building for the several purposes of a Church for the army, a lodge room for the fraternity of Masons among the officers, and to hold public meetings as occasion might require. We have particularly spoken of this building, and certain proceedings had in it of an interesting character at the time, in the early part of our paper. We now remark, that when it was finished, the officers of the army named it “the Temple of Virtue.” Soon after completion the officers got up a Ball to grace its patriot existence the largest scale the condition of the country round, and their facilities for such a purpose, would admit of. All the youth and beauty, wit, wealth and character, from far and near, that could be collected on such a high and joyous occasion were there. Fathers and mothers were there, and considering the time, place and circumstances, it was an honor to be there, to grace a ball room, and thread the merry dance with, or in the presence of, the father of his country and the saviours of the land. Doubtless all enjoyed the spirit of the festival as if it were the celebration of a victory that established the Independence of the country.
The dance went on, and was continued till a late hour, when the hero general retired, and it was renewed, if possible, in life and spirit. But there is an end to all things, and so with the dance. The excitements of the night ended in a debauch with many of the officers, who finally conducted themselves in a loud and riotous manner, and the Temple forfeited its virtuous character. From that night the name was changed, and ever afterwards it was known as “the Temple.”
I blew off Swami again. He’s plenty pissed, I can tell. I had every intention of going to work today but Phebe laid into me for not listening to her earlier in the week when she asked me to be home today.
It’s Maundy Thursday, she says, I told you I need you to watch the baby while I help take care of things at church.
What the Hell is Maundy Thursday? I ask.
Holy Thursday, Jackass! She says.
Then tonight we heard Betty’s back in the hospital fighting for her life. Phebe went out to the hospital from church, didn’t come home until late. Not good for Betty at all.
At some point during the night a car that looked like Cupid Boy’s tried to go down the lane, but turned around and peeled out when confronted by a locked gate.
I have to get that Winnebago of Virtue the hell off the fucking place.
For a time Percy wanted to write about Washington’s Masonic activities while the Continental Army was camped here at the end of the war---The ‘Temple of Virtue’ that Washington built at Temple Hill in New Windsor and all that--- but he said he’s had to put that on hold while he works on his Crypto-Judaism in New Paltz shit.
Anyway, here’s a little of what Eager had to say about the Temple of Virtue:
On lands located by Haskins, and afterwards known the Duzenberry farm, during the Revolution, and while the army was stationed in that vicinity, General Washington erected a large temporary building for the several purposes of a Church for the army, a lodge room for the fraternity of Masons among the officers, and to hold public meetings as occasion might require. We have particularly spoken of this building, and certain proceedings had in it of an interesting character at the time, in the early part of our paper. We now remark, that when it was finished, the officers of the army named it “the Temple of Virtue.” Soon after completion the officers got up a Ball to grace its patriot existence the largest scale the condition of the country round, and their facilities for such a purpose, would admit of. All the youth and beauty, wit, wealth and character, from far and near, that could be collected on such a high and joyous occasion were there. Fathers and mothers were there, and considering the time, place and circumstances, it was an honor to be there, to grace a ball room, and thread the merry dance with, or in the presence of, the father of his country and the saviours of the land. Doubtless all enjoyed the spirit of the festival as if it were the celebration of a victory that established the Independence of the country.
The dance went on, and was continued till a late hour, when the hero general retired, and it was renewed, if possible, in life and spirit. But there is an end to all things, and so with the dance. The excitements of the night ended in a debauch with many of the officers, who finally conducted themselves in a loud and riotous manner, and the Temple forfeited its virtuous character. From that night the name was changed, and ever afterwards it was known as “the Temple.”
I blew off Swami again. He’s plenty pissed, I can tell. I had every intention of going to work today but Phebe laid into me for not listening to her earlier in the week when she asked me to be home today.
It’s Maundy Thursday, she says, I told you I need you to watch the baby while I help take care of things at church.
What the Hell is Maundy Thursday? I ask.
Holy Thursday, Jackass! She says.
Then tonight we heard Betty’s back in the hospital fighting for her life. Phebe went out to the hospital from church, didn’t come home until late. Not good for Betty at all.
At some point during the night a car that looked like Cupid Boy’s tried to go down the lane, but turned around and peeled out when confronted by a locked gate.
I have to get that Winnebago of Virtue the hell off the fucking place.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
04/11/01
I tossed and turned all night. I dreaded the thought of going to work for Swami on the dig again today. I was panicking over it really. I just called him and told him I was feeling a little sick. He mocked me: I have never heard of a husbandman as stalwart as you sequestering at home because of the sniffles! I kept thinking of that nightmare I had where I was digging down in Porch Rot’s filled well when Stash Skimington came along, shot down at me and covered it all up with dirt. I think what if Swami is just having me do all this digging so he’ll have a neat way to dispose of me in addition to maybe collecting some quaint bottles for the shelf? Along came a Creepy Asshole Psychiatrist Spider. If I wrote that up it might be like an Edgar Allan Poe story. I was thinking I was sort of kicked out of the military like Poe. Maybe then it’s there in me, the greatness.
I was talking to Percy on the phone after that. He knew already James Patterson was from Newburgh. Course he knows everything, doesn’t he? He said that I should know Poe invented the detective story genre, that’s why the top award in the genre is called the “Edgar”. Percy said when Poe was court-martialed from West Point his fellow cadets took up a collection for him of $170 to help publish the poems he had written there.
I’m thinking that probably hasn’t happened like that since then.
Percy went on to say that Dr. Hardik was praising me at Cricket practice yesterday. I guess Swami told Percy how impressed he was with my knowledge of George Washington and local events during the Revolutionary War.
But I know better, Percy says, all wooden rod stuck up the ass. You have so much to learn still!
Then Percy emails me the text of a letter George Clinton wrote to George Washington in 1776.
If you’re going to write a story about the chain being put across the Hudson, the first person you need to learn about is George Clinton. He’s not to be confused with Sir Henry Clinton, the British Commander-in Chief during the war.
“. . . or the Godfather of Funk,” he should have added.
Fort Montgomery, 15 July, 1776
SIR,
I received your favor of the 12th instant yesterday, at this place; previous to which, about nine o clock Saturday morning, the signal at Fort Constitution being given, and the masters of two sloops, which about the same time came to, opposite my house, having informed me that the enemy had attacked New York the evening before, and that they judged, by the report of the cannon, that their shipping had passed by, and were up the river as far as King's Bridge, I thought it my duty to put the neighbouring militia in motion and accordingly issued orders to three regiments, one immediately to march into these works, another into Fort Constitution, and the third to rendezvous at Newburg, on the bank of the river, about nine miles above Fort Constitution, with orders to march and reenforce that garrison, upon the next signal given.
At the same time I issued orders to all the regiments in my brigade, to stand ready to march on a moment's warning, and despatched expresses to all owners of sloops and boats twenty miles up the west side of the river, to haul them off so as to prevent their grounding ; that as many of them as were necessary might be ready to carry down the militia to the forts. The residue I ordered down to Fort Constitution, as I believe by drawing a chain of them across the narrowest part of the river, and fixing them properly to be set on fire, should the enemy's shipping attempt passing by, they would answer a most valuable purpose. Early in the afternoon of that day, I marched into Fort Constitution with about forty of my neighbours, and in the evening came to this fort, being nearer the enemy and better situated to discover their motions. Yesterday evening I was joined by Colonel Woodhull, with between two and three hundred of his regiment; this morning early, by Lieutenant-Colonel McClaghry, with upwards of five hundred of his ; and I hourly expect parts of two other regiments. When these join me, I will draft, out of the four, six hundred men, and employ them as your Excellency has directed. I have ordered the Colonels I have called in, to leave the frontier companies at home to protect the country against the Indians, should they be troublesome, and as many men out of each company as will be sufficient to guard against any attempts that might be made by internal enemies.
The men turn out of their harvest fields, to defend their country, with surprising alacrity. The absence of so many of them, however, at this time, when their harvests are perishing for want of the sickle, will greatly distress the country. I could wish, therefore, a less number might answer the purpose. I would fain hope the enemy mean, by their shipping in our bays, at present only to cut off the communication between the country and city, and prevent our obstructing the channel. Many of the militia may be called in in eight hour ; some in a much less time, should there be occasion for them.
Since writing the above, I received a letter from Colonel Hay, of Haverstraw, a copy of which is in closed. I will send a small party down there this evening, or in the morning, but don t believe I shall be able to continue them long, as the militia here will think hard to be carried there. The bearer, Mr. Boyd, who is well acquainted with this country, the fortifications here, and may be confided in, will be able to give your Excellency any further information.
I am, with great esteem,
Your Excellency's most obedient servant,
George Clinton.
P. S. I should be glad to know whether it is best to keep the sloops, &c., ordered down to Fort Constitution, there, as it may be attended with considerable expense, which, however, if they can be made to answer a good purpose, ought not, in my opinion, to be regarded.
I was talking to Percy on the phone after that. He knew already James Patterson was from Newburgh. Course he knows everything, doesn’t he? He said that I should know Poe invented the detective story genre, that’s why the top award in the genre is called the “Edgar”. Percy said when Poe was court-martialed from West Point his fellow cadets took up a collection for him of $170 to help publish the poems he had written there.
I’m thinking that probably hasn’t happened like that since then.
Percy went on to say that Dr. Hardik was praising me at Cricket practice yesterday. I guess Swami told Percy how impressed he was with my knowledge of George Washington and local events during the Revolutionary War.
But I know better, Percy says, all wooden rod stuck up the ass. You have so much to learn still!
Then Percy emails me the text of a letter George Clinton wrote to George Washington in 1776.
If you’re going to write a story about the chain being put across the Hudson, the first person you need to learn about is George Clinton. He’s not to be confused with Sir Henry Clinton, the British Commander-in Chief during the war.
“. . . or the Godfather of Funk,” he should have added.
Fort Montgomery, 15 July, 1776
SIR,
I received your favor of the 12th instant yesterday, at this place; previous to which, about nine o clock Saturday morning, the signal at Fort Constitution being given, and the masters of two sloops, which about the same time came to, opposite my house, having informed me that the enemy had attacked New York the evening before, and that they judged, by the report of the cannon, that their shipping had passed by, and were up the river as far as King's Bridge, I thought it my duty to put the neighbouring militia in motion and accordingly issued orders to three regiments, one immediately to march into these works, another into Fort Constitution, and the third to rendezvous at Newburg, on the bank of the river, about nine miles above Fort Constitution, with orders to march and reenforce that garrison, upon the next signal given.
At the same time I issued orders to all the regiments in my brigade, to stand ready to march on a moment's warning, and despatched expresses to all owners of sloops and boats twenty miles up the west side of the river, to haul them off so as to prevent their grounding ; that as many of them as were necessary might be ready to carry down the militia to the forts. The residue I ordered down to Fort Constitution, as I believe by drawing a chain of them across the narrowest part of the river, and fixing them properly to be set on fire, should the enemy's shipping attempt passing by, they would answer a most valuable purpose. Early in the afternoon of that day, I marched into Fort Constitution with about forty of my neighbours, and in the evening came to this fort, being nearer the enemy and better situated to discover their motions. Yesterday evening I was joined by Colonel Woodhull, with between two and three hundred of his regiment; this morning early, by Lieutenant-Colonel McClaghry, with upwards of five hundred of his ; and I hourly expect parts of two other regiments. When these join me, I will draft, out of the four, six hundred men, and employ them as your Excellency has directed. I have ordered the Colonels I have called in, to leave the frontier companies at home to protect the country against the Indians, should they be troublesome, and as many men out of each company as will be sufficient to guard against any attempts that might be made by internal enemies.
The men turn out of their harvest fields, to defend their country, with surprising alacrity. The absence of so many of them, however, at this time, when their harvests are perishing for want of the sickle, will greatly distress the country. I could wish, therefore, a less number might answer the purpose. I would fain hope the enemy mean, by their shipping in our bays, at present only to cut off the communication between the country and city, and prevent our obstructing the channel. Many of the militia may be called in in eight hour ; some in a much less time, should there be occasion for them.
Since writing the above, I received a letter from Colonel Hay, of Haverstraw, a copy of which is in closed. I will send a small party down there this evening, or in the morning, but don t believe I shall be able to continue them long, as the militia here will think hard to be carried there. The bearer, Mr. Boyd, who is well acquainted with this country, the fortifications here, and may be confided in, will be able to give your Excellency any further information.
I am, with great esteem,
Your Excellency's most obedient servant,
George Clinton.
P. S. I should be glad to know whether it is best to keep the sloops, &c., ordered down to Fort Constitution, there, as it may be attended with considerable expense, which, however, if they can be made to answer a good purpose, ought not, in my opinion, to be regarded.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
4/10/01
Went to work for Swami today on his archeology site on Montgomery Street. I feel so much better terming it an archeology site for some reason rather than an ancient shit-filled outhouse shaft. On the way through town I thought I saw the Mafia guy following me again but then he just sort of vanished. Whether he’s real or made up in my mind he’s creepy as all hell. Swami made a comment at some point that I looked stressed out. I said placing myself in direct contact with the excrement of people who lived in a different century sometimes does that to me. I didn’t mention I was facing a violation of probation. Last thing in the world I would ever do is share my problems with that asshole. Wait, that’s right, he’s my psychiatrist. Anyway, I was digging slowly. I was being paid by the hour, after all. Swami was standing over me anxiously awaiting treasure to emerge. Curious fucker. First bottle I found was about two feet down. I broke the neck off with the shovel. Swami made me know that was most lamentable. Very very lamentable. I’m thinking use the word fuck for once asshole. I told Swami seems to date only to the early 1900’s.
This wasn’t George Washington’s shit hole, that’s for sure. Maybe Geraldine Ferraro’s father.
I tried to instruct Swami on the local Revolutionary War history. Of course he knew of George Washington’s headquarters in Newburgh, but he seemed ignorant on most everything else that happened around here during the war.
George turned down being King of America not far from here.
Oh.
I told him Montgomery Street was named for General Richard Montgomery, the first national hero of America, who died in the Battle of Quebec. He said he never knew.
When I travel around Newburgh, Swami says, I can’t help but think how this place provided the literary foundation for one of the most accomplished writers the world has ever known. I so admire that man!
I have to say I was stumped: You mean Edgar Allan Poe? That was down the river though. He wasn’t here. He was thrown out of West Point.
No, no, I’m referring to James Patterson!
And then Swami does this spider imitation with his fingers on my neck with this creepy laugh.
You know: Along Came a Spider! They just came out with the movie!
Now I know how Percy feels. Now I’m fucking Squidward.
This wasn’t George Washington’s shit hole, that’s for sure. Maybe Geraldine Ferraro’s father.
I tried to instruct Swami on the local Revolutionary War history. Of course he knew of George Washington’s headquarters in Newburgh, but he seemed ignorant on most everything else that happened around here during the war.
George turned down being King of America not far from here.
Oh.
I told him Montgomery Street was named for General Richard Montgomery, the first national hero of America, who died in the Battle of Quebec. He said he never knew.
When I travel around Newburgh, Swami says, I can’t help but think how this place provided the literary foundation for one of the most accomplished writers the world has ever known. I so admire that man!
I have to say I was stumped: You mean Edgar Allan Poe? That was down the river though. He wasn’t here. He was thrown out of West Point.
No, no, I’m referring to James Patterson!
And then Swami does this spider imitation with his fingers on my neck with this creepy laugh.
You know: Along Came a Spider! They just came out with the movie!
Now I know how Percy feels. Now I’m fucking Squidward.
4/9/01
Reported to Cupid Boy this morning, got a kick in the gut from the fucker. He informed me he was filing a petition in court alleging I violated the terms of my probation.
I protested of course, asked, How on Earth did I do that?
Stupid Boy rattles off a litany of items:
Well, let see, you violated the stay away distance requirement on the order involving your assault victim. You continue to possess firearms by fraudulently claiming they’re your wife’s now. You travelled outside the county more than 50 miles without permission. You failed to report to the office that same day! Let me stop, OK, before your direct admission to me to littering adjacent to a protected wetland!
That boy needs to find a new fucking girlfriend!
I’m holding out hope maybe the asshole is bluffing. He goes forward, he knows I can come back at him with his dirt with Cupcake and her fucking RV parked on my farm. Of course nowadays some people delight in having their dirty laundry aired in public. He could just say So What? I’m just thinking I have to get that fucking trailer off the place. Next thing he’ll say I’m selling drugs out of the thing, or using it to pimp out Cupcake or some other crazy ass thing.
Anyway, here’s a stupid thing that came into my head as a distraction:
No Farms, No Food
No Food, No Farts
No Farts, No Fools
No Fools, No Fun
I’ll have more time to work on it later. . .when I’m locked up in fucking jail!
I protested of course, asked, How on Earth did I do that?
Stupid Boy rattles off a litany of items:
Well, let see, you violated the stay away distance requirement on the order involving your assault victim. You continue to possess firearms by fraudulently claiming they’re your wife’s now. You travelled outside the county more than 50 miles without permission. You failed to report to the office that same day! Let me stop, OK, before your direct admission to me to littering adjacent to a protected wetland!
That boy needs to find a new fucking girlfriend!
I’m holding out hope maybe the asshole is bluffing. He goes forward, he knows I can come back at him with his dirt with Cupcake and her fucking RV parked on my farm. Of course nowadays some people delight in having their dirty laundry aired in public. He could just say So What? I’m just thinking I have to get that fucking trailer off the place. Next thing he’ll say I’m selling drugs out of the thing, or using it to pimp out Cupcake or some other crazy ass thing.
Anyway, here’s a stupid thing that came into my head as a distraction:
No Farms, No Food
No Food, No Farts
No Farts, No Fools
No Fools, No Fun
I’ll have more time to work on it later. . .when I’m locked up in fucking jail!
4/8/01
Swami Hard Salami told me a while back that “proximity is the biggest force to be contemplated when it comes to settling on a partner for fornication.” Yeah, that’s kinda interesting since I learn now his wife has been staying in India apart from him for like the last year!
I insulted the shit out of him today: Marital problems, Dr. Hardik?
Of course not! That is most impertinent! You should remember that modern electronic amenities make it possible to maintain high levels of sexual intimacy with a spouse, even at terrific distances!
So that was great. For the next hour working I had this picture of Swami jacking off in front of his webcam chanting oooh-baby to the little lady back in Delhi.
Phebe wasn’t happy I declined to go to church with her and the baby this morning. She said she’s worried about the baby growing up without a father or God, said I wasn’t doing much to help. I said let’s pray for a way to spring Rocky from jail then.
I’m such a dumb fucking heathen asshole.
I insulted the shit out of him today: Marital problems, Dr. Hardik?
Of course not! That is most impertinent! You should remember that modern electronic amenities make it possible to maintain high levels of sexual intimacy with a spouse, even at terrific distances!
So that was great. For the next hour working I had this picture of Swami jacking off in front of his webcam chanting oooh-baby to the little lady back in Delhi.
Phebe wasn’t happy I declined to go to church with her and the baby this morning. She said she’s worried about the baby growing up without a father or God, said I wasn’t doing much to help. I said let’s pray for a way to spring Rocky from jail then.
I’m such a dumb fucking heathen asshole.
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