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Leah came back as an afterthought and mentioned they were going to Dojo's on St. Mark's Place, but still none of us apparently burdensome extras were invited along.
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oday was the day that we had to head back to Charlottesville from our little vacation to New York City. In an apparent hurry to get away from Deya, Monster Boy and myself, the other went out the door and off to breakfast without saying anything about where they were going. Leah came back as an afterthought and mentioned they were going to Dojo's on St. Mark's Place, but still none of us apparently burdensome extras were invited along. It was just another one of those things that contributed to my feelings of misery. I know when I'm not wanted. I don't know what offense I'd been part of, but apparently eating breakfast across from Matthew Hart's pupil-less eyes was an experience from which my presence could only subtract.
Deya went out for breakfast solo, and then Monster Boy and I went as a pair. We checked out the record stores along the way and I bought Tripmaster Monkey's Practice Changes for $5. [More on that tomorrow.]
Monster Boy had a slice of pizza and I bought a chicken fajita. Then, in a record store on St. Mark's, Monster Boy bought a random unknown selection of ten vinyl albums for a dollar. We returned to Diana and Verge's apartment at around 2pm.
After the obligatory long and drawn-out goodbye (complete with a veritable ode to Verge composed extemporaneously by Matthew Hart), we set out for the subway to begin our complex trip back to Charlottesville.
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They weren't quite as horrible with Matthew as sedated as he was; heroin makes him considerably more flexible than he is otherwise.
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I noticed that Matthew and Leah didn't fight at all in the presence of Verge and Diana, but once we were in the public transportation system, the fights began anew. They weren't quite as horrible with Matthew as sedated as he was; heroin makes him considerably more flexible than he is otherwise. I was already forgetting much of the animosity of the weekend. I could even see that I'd actually had a little fun.
elays, subway overshoots, an older woman ranting in incomprehensible Mandarin Chinese, all these things happened in the two and a half hours it took us to go the 20 miles back to Deya's car in Newark, New Jersey. Our memories proved better than expected, despite having taking no notes of where we'd parked, we found the car directly.
Matthew Hart did the first driving shift, but when I noted that he had the heroin-nods (little periods when his eyes would shut and he would slump, followed by panicky awakenings), I became concerned and gladly took control. Eventually we drank 32 oz Budweisers.
Monster Boy took control next, though we almost went around the wrong side of DC when I failed to pay strict attention to our bearings. Toward the end of the ride I slept well, though I was concerned we wouldn't get back home in time for my shift. A traffic jam on I-66 and rain throughout the trip conspired against us.
We made it back with an hour to spare.
n this trip Matthew and Leah have decided that they want to live in a clean house. However, Matthew thinks we are grown up enough not to have a retarded schedule sheet. I don't know. As corny as schedules are, they provide a concrete framework and assign real responsibilities. Without such things, we'd all still be living in caves.
