It looked like it was going to be a night of dark, silent coldness.

A


fter I walked home from Abundance House (lots of powerful coffee under my ribs, made by a former coffee professional), I immediately set about to take care of unfinished business. If I didn't do it, nobody would. I was pleased to find that the power was still on at Kappa Mutha Fucka, but who knew how long that would last?

At UVA's Cocke Hall, I idled away time checking my bloated email inbox and updating these musings when I should have been calling Virginia Power. By the time I did, they told me Kappa Mutha Fucka's power had already been turned off. Sigh...

They said the earliest they could turn the power back on would be tomorrow. It looked like it was going to be a night of dark, silent coldness. Come to think of it, it probably wouldn't be all that silent. Matthew Hart and Angela would be there, drunk off their asses as usual, carrying on loudly, risking torching the place with ignorantly positioned candles, and my fan would be off and I'd have to hear it all. But I digress.

For all practical purposes, she's now completely loony toons and has disappeared untraceably into the underworld.

I also learned yet another risk of co-signing a lease with an unpredictable sexual gourmet. Virginia Power mandates that all signers of a lease also be responsible for electric bills. Monster Boy was an exception, since his electric bill carried over from an earlier rental agreement. It's all very complicated and needlessly bureaucratic, but the point is that it's possible we'll have to track down Leah and get her to agree to sign some paperwork to allow us to have power in our house. This is patently ridiculous given the fact that, for all practical purposes, she's now completely loony toons and has disappeared untraceably into the underworld. But how do I explain the situation to Virginia Power when all I desperately want is for them to enable our lights and alarm clocks?

He must be some sort of embodiment of karmic retribution; he's sucked our blood for months and has given almost nothing in return.

In other things, I did some bank business, paid the rent to the landlord, and went shopping for groceries. Most of a whole rotisserie chicken under my ribs, I'm typing up my miserable situation here at UVA's Olssen Hall.

People with whom I'm upset:

• Monster Boy, for telling Matthew Hart, not me, the important news of an imminent cut off in utilities. Any fool would know that Matthew would promptly forget such information. Yet again, Monster Boy has managed to make life just a little more difficult. He must be some sort of embodiment of karmic retribution; he's sucked our blood for months and has given almost nothing in return. His promises of "making it all up someday" were mere breakings of wind; he has proven himself to be nothing more than a bad social investment.

• Matthew Hart, for allowing himself to sink to such a pathetic level. Not only is he a perpetual drunk with a tendency to break things and not fix them, but he's lost and hopeless without constant sexual companionship. His weakness is appalling and depressing. The way he is now reminds me of the way Morgan Anarchy was last time I saw him. Matthew is spinning further and further out of control, and I fear some morning I'll learn he died in a car crash.

• Rory, for failing to learn anything from the fable The Goose That Layed the Golden Egg, and for taking his resultant sociopathy into my town and fucking up my happy little world.

It looks like I should go take some kind of nap now.

---

The alarm sounded remarkably like the incredibly fast guitar intro to Ministry's "TV II" off Psalm 69.

I


  took a long, punctuated nap that began at 4:30pm and lasted until work time. I'd thought ahead and found my flashlight before dark so I'd have it when I needed to see things in the blackness. What I needed to see mostly was my watch, which I never wear, but which was proving useful. Every hour or so I'd wake up and check it and try to set an internal alarm for later.

There were other things that woke me up as well. Without my fan, I could hear everything going on around me in the house and in the neighborhood. Matthew and Angela had apparently found somewhere else to spend the night, but Deya came home and I could hear her having a sneezing fit. I've been sneezing a lot myself lately.

What does he hope to get from me? His time for redemption passed long ago.

Then the fire alarm went off at the big frat house catty-corner behind us. The alarm sounded remarkably like the incredibly fast guitar intro to Ministry's "TV II" off Psalm 69. This was followed by the arrival of a loud entourage of fire engines. The alarm went off yet again later in the evening, and this time the fire engines came with considerably less fanfair. You can cry "wolf!" only so many times.

Naturally, I managed to oversleep 20 minutes, but I suppose this was only karmic justice, since I was to be taking over for co-worker Robert, and he's habitually late when he comes in to take over for me.

R


ory has been trying to contact me lately, mostly by email. I've been completely ignoring him. I haven't been reading his email, and I haven't been going to his website either. To me, he's socially dead. He has no real friends, no economic support, no place to stay, and a sword of justice suspended over his head. All he can do now is haunt me like the irritating ghost he is. What does he hope to get from me? His time for redemption passed long ago.

one year ago

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