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| this is how I like to spend my afternoons |
Tuesday. Brittany and I opened, and I was slated to close as well but had to run up to C.C.U. to request transcripts before the office closed, and Chloe was kind enough to come in and help me out. After requesting my transcripts at President Hall, I walked down to the Hilltop and visited Hot Sauce Waugh. He made me a dirty naughty iced soy chai, and the Wisconsinite called, so I sat on the stone wall next to Rhine and looked out at the city and we talked for a while. Sitting at the stone wall dredged forth memories of being there with her, and with Deshay, Faikham, Gambill, Jessie. Those precious months, going on four years ago, will never leave me. Dinner was squid pasta (it was ok: the squid was pretty bland, so a more potent sauce like alfredo would be preferred; I made my own sauce out of basil pesto, garlic cloves, onions and olive oil), and Corey and Kevin entertained me throughout the night playing guitars in the bed fort. They've written some pretty great songs, my hat is off to them.
Wednesday. Ams came over late last night, and we had some really good talks in my room with the oil lanterns flickering. "You're a good person to talk to," she said. "You just sit there and listen and ask questions and let me think through stuff and come to my own conclusions. And you're so compassionate. You should've become a counselor." After a pause, she added, "But probably not: you're too compassionate, it would've messed with your head." That's fair: it doesn't take much. My second day of training with Walk of Joy went well, and Ams came over in the evening and we hung out in the living room and watched TV. The Wisconsinite is in Chicago to see her sister and brother-in-law off on a missionary adventure and is staying at the house of someone I used to know from college. This old pal of mine quipped, "You call him Anthony? I thought everyone called him 'Beast'!"
Thursday. I opened with Tori and closed with Chloe, and the Wisconsinite called me right when I started my break so I got to spend it delightfully talking with her. After we closed, I hopped across 6th Street to do some writing at Panera. From there I left downtown and rendezvoused with Amos at his place for a chill evening with him, John & Brandy, and Clover. My night ended in the glow of oil lamps and Flying Wild Alaska. I've decided that when I get my own home, one room will be dolled up colonial-style, absent electricity. It'll be my "man cave". And there will be NOTHING resembling sports paraphernalia on the walls, unless, of course, it's boxing or cock-fighting (popular in Pennsylvania). The Puritans would hate me.
Friday. I was done training for the new job at noon, and I ran downtown to pick up my check and ended up helping Eric clear out part of the store because poop is falling from our ceiling! Just another day at TM. I went to The Anchor before heading to West High Street for dinner with Eric & Tiffany, Lennon & Adler, Chase & Jenna, and Melissa V. Tiffany made pasta alfredo from scratch and baked her own bread. We downed it with Roktoberfest and polished off the beer with an apple cobbler pie and ice cream. I found Andy hanging outside my house when I returned later in the evening, and when Corey and Mandy returned from an evening in Indiana we all hung out in her bed-fort. Around 1:30 in the morning I stood up too fast and I staggered into my bedframe in the dark, stumbled into my bookcase, and tumbled onto the floor where my bike promptly fell on top of me. Once I pulled myself up and brushed myself off, I felt a draft coming from the door downstairs and went outside to find Andy hugging the earth because "the world doesn't get a lot of love, just a lot of bodies." Andy Waugh, everybody.
Saturday. An uneventful, dreary day: McDonald's breakfast with Mandy & Andy, a trip to The Anchor, dinner from Subway and watching The Hatfields & McCoys. I went to bed early and didn't sleep well, fraught with strange and dark dreams. The most prominent took place at Wellington Way. Mandy, Ams and I were upstairs in my old room, and Mandy had thrown a huge party and lots of people came over. A rainstorm came through, and the partygoers scattered. I hurried outside to bring in some furniture so it didn't get wet, and a gang of Congolese drug-runners with machetes materialized out of the rain. I sprinted into the garage and the door slowly lowered as the gang drew nearer the house. I locked the door to the house and ran upstairs, and then came the sound of shattering glass and splintering wood. Mandy was gone, and Ams was alone, asked what was happening. I told her someone was breaking in, they had knives, and she had to be quiet. She started sobbing hysterically: did I mention this was a post-apocalyptic setting so you couldn't call the police? I woke as her screams pierced my ears, and when I woke that feeling of absolute hopelessness and despair, of knowing there was nothing you could do, that someone you loved more than anything was about to be taken and you were powerless to protect them, that feeling kept me awake and pacing back and forth on the back porch before I shook my head, took a hot shower, and returned to bed.
Sunday. I went to The Anchor before the early service at U.C.C. Amos and I spent the afternoon hanging out, and Ams came over later in the evening. She got Penn Station for dinner, and I had crab rangoon. We watched lots of "Parks and Recreation." The Wisconsinite called after a long weekend at camp, and talking to her was a great way to end the week.
Thursday. I opened with Tori and closed with Chloe, and the Wisconsinite called me right when I started my break so I got to spend it delightfully talking with her. After we closed, I hopped across 6th Street to do some writing at Panera. From there I left downtown and rendezvoused with Amos at his place for a chill evening with him, John & Brandy, and Clover. My night ended in the glow of oil lamps and Flying Wild Alaska. I've decided that when I get my own home, one room will be dolled up colonial-style, absent electricity. It'll be my "man cave". And there will be NOTHING resembling sports paraphernalia on the walls, unless, of course, it's boxing or cock-fighting (popular in Pennsylvania). The Puritans would hate me.
Friday. I was done training for the new job at noon, and I ran downtown to pick up my check and ended up helping Eric clear out part of the store because poop is falling from our ceiling! Just another day at TM. I went to The Anchor before heading to West High Street for dinner with Eric & Tiffany, Lennon & Adler, Chase & Jenna, and Melissa V. Tiffany made pasta alfredo from scratch and baked her own bread. We downed it with Roktoberfest and polished off the beer with an apple cobbler pie and ice cream. I found Andy hanging outside my house when I returned later in the evening, and when Corey and Mandy returned from an evening in Indiana we all hung out in her bed-fort. Around 1:30 in the morning I stood up too fast and I staggered into my bedframe in the dark, stumbled into my bookcase, and tumbled onto the floor where my bike promptly fell on top of me. Once I pulled myself up and brushed myself off, I felt a draft coming from the door downstairs and went outside to find Andy hugging the earth because "the world doesn't get a lot of love, just a lot of bodies." Andy Waugh, everybody.
Saturday. An uneventful, dreary day: McDonald's breakfast with Mandy & Andy, a trip to The Anchor, dinner from Subway and watching The Hatfields & McCoys. I went to bed early and didn't sleep well, fraught with strange and dark dreams. The most prominent took place at Wellington Way. Mandy, Ams and I were upstairs in my old room, and Mandy had thrown a huge party and lots of people came over. A rainstorm came through, and the partygoers scattered. I hurried outside to bring in some furniture so it didn't get wet, and a gang of Congolese drug-runners with machetes materialized out of the rain. I sprinted into the garage and the door slowly lowered as the gang drew nearer the house. I locked the door to the house and ran upstairs, and then came the sound of shattering glass and splintering wood. Mandy was gone, and Ams was alone, asked what was happening. I told her someone was breaking in, they had knives, and she had to be quiet. She started sobbing hysterically: did I mention this was a post-apocalyptic setting so you couldn't call the police? I woke as her screams pierced my ears, and when I woke that feeling of absolute hopelessness and despair, of knowing there was nothing you could do, that someone you loved more than anything was about to be taken and you were powerless to protect them, that feeling kept me awake and pacing back and forth on the back porch before I shook my head, took a hot shower, and returned to bed.
Sunday. I went to The Anchor before the early service at U.C.C. Amos and I spent the afternoon hanging out, and Ams came over later in the evening. She got Penn Station for dinner, and I had crab rangoon. We watched lots of "Parks and Recreation." The Wisconsinite called after a long weekend at camp, and talking to her was a great way to end the week.
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