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n preference to all otherthings, I did the activities I've been needing to do in order to move outof this place. First off, I washed all my accumulated dirty laundry atthe nearby Maury Washette (directly across Maury from the frat housebehind our house). This entailed carrying two heavy armloads of stufffrom my house and tracking down about four dollars worth of quarters. Thestaff at the Maury Washette are an old skinny redneck couple, and they'revery nice and friendly in a way that made me wish I'd made the washingritual a regular affair during most of my residence at Kappa Mutha Fucka. The woman pointed out a mysterious cooler that had shown up at the bottomof the frat house driveway and asked if I knew anything about it (I did,but I didn't admit that I'd just abandoned it there to get it out of myyard). She said that there'd been several bombings in nearby LouisaCounty (it was in the news a few weeks ago) and that perhaps someoneshould call the police about it, that no one should attempt to move it.
After all my laundry was clean, I started patching holes in the KappaMutha Fucka walls, especially around the dart board. That damn thingwasn't anywhere near worth all the aggravation it has caused.
Angela had come to take people out to theLouisa Quarry, but motivating JohnnyBoom Boom to get off his "fet Italian ehss" was proving to be theusual nightmare. In the mean time, Angela and Jessika joked about Johnny's "newgirlfriend," Kirstin the Ecoradical. "You're the poo-tang clan now!" Ichimed in.
After they'd all left, Morgan andJesse came by and picked up theirproblematic keg (hot in more ways than one) and left for the quarry aswell.
f course, what with all thework I had to do, I couldn't justify going to the quarry and pissing theday away. I did, however, justify going to UVA and pissing away countless hours onthe computes. I was pleased, very pleased, to find I'd received a longemail from a long lost Oberlin friend, Kristen Masson (getting such emailis what the Internet may really be all about). She was mybest friend back in what may have been my darkest hours. Thosedays were similar in some ways to these, just because they were full ofuncertainty. Then I knew I was leaving college, but to do what? Now I'mleaving Kappa Mutha Fucka and maybe even Charlottesville, but wherenext? Anyway, Kristen's a school teacher in Seattle now. I don't knowwhere to begin telling her what I've been doing. Of course, I don't evenneed to; it's all online.
fter the last of theSimpsons reruns, Deya and Iwent out for hush puppies at the Old Dominion chicken place, thencontinued up to Barracks Road where we dumpster dived cardboard boxes toaid us with moving out.
Back at home, we both sipped on Mad Dog as we went about packing up ourshit. I also went on a binge of touching up white trim throughout thehouse. Meanwhile the drunks all hung out on the porch, but I rallied thembriefly to help me dispose of Angela's old couch (over the fence andthrough the lawn to someone's dumpster we did go). All the Mad Dog had me in an unusually sillymood, but it also made my gut feel horrible.
on maybe two occasions today I also felt this:
(composed whiledrinking, having just played my electric guitar)
Feeling fine and full of energy
I'll run unless you capture me.
I'm not that earthling that you seek
I'm far removed, my neck is weak.
Through the place you roast your hotdogs in
Swims the force of love and hate and sin.
I'm not beyond the rest of them
I seek your surly abdomen.
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