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February 23 1998, Monday

I

  had more vivid and frustrating dreams last night, like an important thing in my life, but I forget what it was all about now. Every night the last few days has been a big asexual adventure.

My computer was acting funny today, so I opened it up and discovered that the little fan perched atop the processor wasn't spinning, it just sat there trembling. I fuddled with it and made it perform more reliably, but that wasn't enough to suit me, so I installed a big new fan to blow air onto the motherboard from the front.

The Indian Spring has vanished and it's another cool rainy day. No doubt snow is falling over in Staunton.

 

 

 

D

eya and I went to Martin's Hardware over on Preston Avenue to get a pane of glass for one of the two large windows Matthew broke and left for us to repair. He's a pain in the glass, har har. Martin's Hardware is one of those down-home good ole boy hardware stores. They even give out free coffee. I bought a rotary grinder drill attachment and a double hinged hasp (it would be nice to be able to lock my door when I'm away).

Next Deya and I went to one of the two quaint little bookstores on Elliewood Avenue (on the Corner) to look around and maybe buy something. I couldn't really find what I was looking for, since the organization of the fiction/literature section was haphazard at best. I did like (and expect) the casual atmosphere that pervaded the place. There were so many books that an "extra shelf" had been created by adding a row of books on the floor at the feet of the shelves. Fire code? What fire code?

Deya bought a copy of Edward Abbey's The Monkey Wrench Gang, a book I actually read once. She considered getting a bicycle repair guide, but was turned off by the covers of all the books she considered. They featured 70s-era people on the yellowish cover photographs. Back then everyone was sporting mustaches, moppy hair and tight blue blue jeans.

Back at Kappa Mutha Fucka, I did the last bit of grinding on the Dart's right rear wheel and put it back on. That part ought to pass inspection anyway.

 

 

 

T

he big news today is that Jessika has decided to move into Matthew Hart's old room. Her mother, Teri, is paying for the first month's rent, which makes the decision easier than it might otherwise be. The only turbulence in all this is that Joanna Road Rage was expecting Jessika to live with her when she moves to Charlottesville.

So the fun, big or otherwise, continues.

Meanwhile Deya is building a table out of my old Dodge Dart tires. We're going to have a nice house together: two Libras (Jessika and Wilbur the Cockatiel), two Aquarii (me and Deya), a Leo (Nicholas the Cat), and three earth signs rising (us humans).

Today I noticed that Nicholas the Cat is doing a good stand-in for Matthew Hart. He's been especially infantile for the last two days, doing "the neck thing" (where he presses his cold nose into our necks) and whining a lot. He even stands outside the bathroom and complains when we're in there, just like Matthew does Angela.

But it's not in our face, on our time, in our place any more. We're free of the clutches of the infantile breakers of things. In the future, Kappa Mutha Fucka will be populated by creators, not destroyers. Too bad we only have three months to go.

I'm feeling almost utopiaistic all of a sudden.

one year ago
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