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Published: August 13th 2008
Empty House
Shot from outside the front door, after all our stuff has been removed. Looks a lot smaller.Moving day begins like any other: I'm fast asleep when Jessica kicks open the door of our bedroom and starts banging a riding crop around the inside of a bedpan. "Drop your cocks and grab your socks! It's time to get a goddamn move on!" When I try to roll over and go back to sleep, she puts her cigarette out on the back of my hand.
The moving van arrives on time and I'm happy to discover that we've hired a detachment of Hell's Angels. All four of the movers have elaborate tattoos, glittering earrings, and a taste for human flesh. Jake, the ringleader, is picking at the scab of a recent tattoo. It depicts two massive eagle wings with Thor-like hammers instead of bones. "Nice tat," I say, subtly flexing my biceps. He shrugs. "Are you one of the guys going all the way to California," I ask. I'm desperately trying to distract him from the fact that I'm wearing sandals. Wearing sandals on moving day, it seems to me, is a pretty good reason to kick my ass. "Yup," he says, "I'm going. Nobody likes to be away
Jessica Won't Leave Her Room
The upper right window. I had to tranquilize her. from home as much as me." Indeed. Later on, while I'm sipping a mint julep and painting my nails, I watch as Jake, by himself, lifts an entire wardrobe box, hefts it onto his back, and carries it down the stairs. Let me be clear: these boxes are about 5 feet tall and three feet square. They've been crammed to bursting with all of our shoes and clothes and Jessica's collection of radium-dial clocks. I'm guessing they weigh about 300 pounds a piece. Anyhoo, I was impressed.
After about two hours, the house is empty and echoing. Jessica and I are left with nothing but an old mop and a growing sense of sadness and displacement. A feeling, incidentally, not unlike many of my high school proms. At one point, Jessica barricades herself in what used to be her upstairs office. When I knock on the door and ask her what's wrong, she just mutters, "A boy's best friend is his mother." I'm concerned, but three hours later she comes out.
Emotionally and physically exhausted, we hop in the car and drive to IU's main library. I mean, where else would we go? I still have a few
Percy Flatlines
I had to tranquilize Percy as well. Everybody got a dart except me. library books to drop off, including
Wild Mushrooms of the Transvaal and
Psoriasis: Learning to Live, and Love, with It. While Jessica is depositing a check in the Credit Union ATM, I take Percy for a walk in the arboretum. I decide to let her off her leash so she can run around in the grass and stretch her legs before the long ride to St. Louis. When I do, she immediately attacks an old Pakistani man riding a bicycle. I run over and apologize but he begins cursing me in Urdu. I think it may be time to go.
So we hop in the car and hit the road. Nothing much to report. We rock out, as the opening video should make clear. We try to get our heads around leaving our life behind. We fail to do so. We arrive in St. Louis and take shelter at Jessica's folks' place. We'll catch our breaths here and then head west.
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Josh
non-member comment
Bitch tits.
I like how the ad at the end of your blog there is an ad for bitch tits reduction, coincidence, I think not.