Half Past Dead

"If it offends people you don't do it." -- an Independent Lens participant in the Liberation theology tradition.

What I really wanted Monday evening was to take my typical sitting shower. Instead I checked my enfeebled bank account, dressed, fought with the cats to let me get done, made it to Joe's, fought with the cats to return to the studio, ate a cold wrap, ate more English toffee than I should have, but stopped myself on the edge of over-indulgence, tin in the fridge. Is food shopping a twelve hour affair for you?

If I give up the pets I effectively give Little Vinnie a death sentence, but I am going to do two things this week. Battle Presby head on to transfer me out of the company within 24 months, and threaten my father with the fact that there will be consequences if I do not get an appropriate change of environment. Nothing will change about my vulnerability, but for my regular readers, would you want to stay with a landlord that gave you so much blood in the water?

Is it my impaired judgment that sees an egregious breach of ethics when under a manager named Debra Schwab, I was banned from the meal program but forced to pay for the service? This is what these companies do; it is how they operate, and they will strike at me again if I stay, in a circumstance where I might not be able to access a tenant attorney in time. Bernard Malamud was aware in the prepubescent decade of my youth how merciless and alienating big city life is; he was a fabulist in an era when Doris Lessing was only fomenting her memoirs-- but his work escaped my familiarity-- unfortunate, as The Angel Levine represents the type of fiction on which I was educated. The film is running once again this morning; it does not come together with coherence, not for me. I have attempted to be humorous about encroaching senility, but I am frightened, alone, and marvelously contemptuous of my jar of instant coffee, soluble in hot water, while ground beans are not.

Trivial things like that generate epistemological material?