February 19 1998, Thursday

T

hen later, as I sorted through the necessary phone numbers and addresses I'd need to apply for unemployment (something I intended to do today), I noticed that the bathroom door had been cracked again. I'd remembered the idiotic slamming and hollering between Angela and Matthew around that door the other night, and I flew into an absolute rage. I went down the stairs and asked Angela if Matthew had fucked up the door yet again. She said he had.

"What does he intend to do about it?" I asked in irate dismay.

"Fix it, I guess," she said (with that dumb quality typical of all things Venesian).

"Well, he better," I said, "Next time he breaks something, he's out of here, you can tell him that!"

"Don't take it out on me!" she pleaded.

I responded, "I'm sick of your stupid fights! If Matthew wants to act like a five year old he can move into a Kindergarten!"

The whole time Monster Boy sat there in perplexed silence. I have no idea why he was there, and in this case, I didn't particularly care.

I'd like to say a few things about the source of my rage. You have to understand, in the early pathetic needy days of Matthew's relationship with Angela, he used to be perpetually drunk, and one drunken night he decided he needed Angela even if she was locked in the bathroom, so he kicked his way through the door. It was splintered and damaged for weeks afterwards, until, with much effort, I finally fixed it. Matthew, while wonderfully adept at breaking everything he touches, is utterly incapable of fixing anything at all. So now, to find that he's broken the door yet again, this time while not even drunk, I take as an infuriating slap in the face. To me, it has the effect of denying the value of my fixing it the first time, and shows a complete disregard for the space that we all must share. Does he really think he can strike the same place twice and I'll gleefully fix it both times? What kind of gimp does he take me for?

So I posted a sign on the bathroom door. The sign declared that I had decreed two new house rules:

• If anyone breaks something they have to fix it within a week
• The dog cannot sleep in public space except outside

D

espite my dark mood, the day was warm and sunny. I rode my bike down to UVA's Olssen Hall and checked my email. I forgot to bring my disk so I couldn't upload my latest musings. My anger only began to abate after I told Jessika the situation via email.

I rode to the Virginia Employment Commission down on Preston Avenue and applied for unemployment benefits. Since I don't have free ISP access anymore, I guess all connections with the old Comet people are now severed. And I will probably never be paid for the work I did for them. So, while I need a new job, I also qualify for unemployment.

Anyway, filling out the necessary forms wasn't too big of a deal, and neither was the patronizing interview with the chinless unemployment lady. Now I have to apply for at least two jobs each week in order to receive benefits.

Next on the agenda was going to the Downtown Mall and getting paid by Fred Oesch for some RealAudio work.

At the nearby burrito stand, I ran across Cory the Former Coffee Cart Girl. She's now a Burrito Girl, and the good weather today had made the business brisk. At one point today she had to pee so bad she considered installing a little chamber pot. I also ran across a number of other very friendly people who know me but whose names I do not know.

H

ere I am, back at Kappa Mutha Fucka. Matthew and Angela are busy loading the cars, so I guess they're moving out. I know that Matthew is incapable of taking criticism, so his response to my ultimatum would surely be to flee. Things could get expensive around here, but damn it, I've had it. They obviously don't give a shit about this house; it's just a stage for their sick fucklife. I want them to go fight and rub pudenda somewhere else, and I want them to take their troublesome dog with them.

L

ater in the evening I heard Matthew come in and discuss the whole matter with Deya. When, after he departed, I talked to her about the situation, she said he and Angela would be moving to his mother's place near Staunton. He'd expressed no remorse for rebreaking the door, only irritation that I'd been hollering at Angela (apparently, she not being my girlfriend, I have no right to do so). Unable to confront me on the issue or make any kind of restitution or admission that he was wrong, he's chosen instead his typical means of coping with adversity: fleeing back to mother. Ha ha! I wonder how long he'll be able to stand the new hour-long commute to his low paying restaurant job every morning at 7am. I have no sympathy whatsoever. He's a big big big big big big whining baby who was clearly spoiled rotten all during his youth. He's twenty years old, and it's time to learn a number of nice little life lessons, such as.

• When someone is in the bathroom, even if it's the girlfriend you feel it is your right to screw, you leave her alone.
• When you break something that doesn't belong to you, you fix it!
• When you do something stupid, you learn something so you don't make the same stupid mistake again.

Actually, for now, while Peggy, Zach and the Baboose are in Philadelphia, Matthew (and ever-loving Angela) will be staying up on Carter's Mountain. I wonder if they get in a fight up there, will they break any doors? You know, I doubt Matthew will break any doors at his dear old mother's house. Good riddance, you big big big big big big baby!

H

ere I am at UVA's Cocke Hall, my ZIP drive attached to the Internet, downloading more chunks of LINUX. I'm a cyber-guerilla, getting my bandwidth for free.

There was something wonderfully uplifting about the night time bike ride to Cocke Hall tonight. The air was cool, but it was much warmer than usual for this time of year, and it felt great against my face. It carried a hint of spring, that clean, sanitized, reborn quality that comes after the sterilizing effects of winter frosts. I felt the potential within me to do anything, to get past any trouble. For some reason the sudden challenge of finding a new housemate seems trivial (which it never did during the December crisis), despite the fact that I have no job and no clearly mapped future. I don't even feel like drinking alcohol, which is good, because I don't have any.

I got X Windows for LINUX up and running at some point today. The graphics are very responsive (it takes full advantage of the acceleration of the my surplus Orchid Fahrenheit 1280 video card), but it's impossible to do anything useful with it as of yet.