Goldie Hawn's Train

"Our first instincts aren't always great."--Amy Poehler

It struck me in my linoleum furred kitchenette that I lost track of my Barry Unsworth Stone Virgin edition as allowed to preview on Google Books. I was rereading it for my own pleasure when I hired Karina K last spring, and now it has vanished, like so many of my possessions vanished when this damn corrupt company hired Trudy Richardson to traumatize the residents during the 2007 renovations. Not that she took it, my edition, but Karina fondled it like she wanted it, and now it is gone. Not in the closet, as far as I can tell. I looked everywhere. It angers me that, regardless of my experiments, I get trampled on, even with the best of intentions, and I telephoned the girl the night after this post and laid into her in much the same way I am defying the African Americans with their Presby salaries. When I told Trudy's voicemail "I had enough!" I meant it, even if this means, as a weakening woman, my security is in jeopardy

I had a submission process that served me very well once, with markers, typing paper, stamps, notebooks, clipped articles. My pitches were fewer, but I produced and published, and I have yet to recover that equilibrium, especially since 2007, and if I am going to be moving again, the weight on my chest against my desire to work feels like 20,000 tons of cubic pressure. We laugh at Goldie Hawn, the woman who carried blond cluelessness from the new age to the Clinton era, and I have grown fonder of Death Becomes Her as an idiotic farce over time-- Trudy is a toffee version of Hawn-- incredulous bulbous eyes with what she has to put up with in my unsanitary unit, but my hit list is, shall we say, tremulous with the anticipation of growth.

Unsworth's inspired period tale is one of my favorite modern Booker nominees. Reading it comforts me. and he gets his Italian mindset right. How I don't know, and I am not sure I could ever authenticate an authorial voice the way he does between past and present and a stone madonna that is something touched by history, but I loved this book.

Grinding my teeth. Buy it again. Never hire a Caucasian woman twenty years my junior because she reminded me of Maureen, my neighbor, or because she reminded me of happier university times, but these disruptions to my need for stability, to hold to my routine, to be able to create, might land me in prison if I cannot find a landlord who will leave me in peace. Beat the system and hire a damned assassin. During trial argue lack of discrimination as a point in my favor. But where I go from here, I have no idea. Medicaid Waiver services are no surety, even if Craigslist might kill you.