Wednesday, May 31, 2006

A Bus Schedule and a Dream

Hello. I spent yesterday afternoon riding the bus and shopping for records. I found a dog-chewed Pat Benetar LP for Chestnut (which I will have to sneak past Tumble in an empty John Fogerty sleeve) and an odd little bootleg I couldn't pass up entitled A Phil Ochs Christmas.
Speaking of Chestnut, he announced during Tuesday Night Balderdash that he will be spending the month of June visiting his sister in Los Angeles while she recovers from arthroscopic surgery, which Chestnut further explained was knee surgery after Tumble returned with a hand-made card that read "Sorry to hear about your uterus."
This will be the longest that any member of the household has been away since our modest Linden Avenue triumvirate formed back in 2004, but I feel that for Chestnut this is a much needed vacation, as I had heard he'd been combing the cubicle carpets at work for stray Xanax. Tumble has talked about taking some money he'd saved up and flying the two of us out there at the end of the month, but then again he's also talked about keeping that money around for bail in case the Borough Swap Meet goes as bad as it did last year.
All for now.
-F
posted @ 01:29 PM est [link]

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

Fevered Dreams and Other Things
Hello to everyone from the northwest corner of Public Library grounds, where the wireless signal is thickest and where a vagrant named "Tiny" is currently lounging to my right, taking select nibbles from a bouquet of hand-picked local mushrooms and reporting to all within earshot whether or not they're "worth the trouble." Chestnut is supposed to meet me here on his lunch and go with me to the farmer's market, but last week he got banned after arguing with a group of flyering libertarians and he forgot his wig and moustache at the office.

Tumble is currently at home battling a 101-degree fever he's had for the past few days, one which he attributes to a particularly pathogenic eighth-grade class he taught last week and one I privately believe to be a result of a midnight skivvy-dipping tour of our neighbors' backyard pools that ended in an undie-clad Tumble having to hide in a tree house after the cops were called.

Tumble phoned Chestnut at work today to describe an afternoon fever-dream he'd had that he believed to be of great portent. When words failed to describe it adequately, Tumble transcribed the dream onto napkin and faxed it to Chestnut from a Kinko's. Apparently it involved Tumble storming out of the 1968 Democratic National Convention early because Darth Vader had sat on Tumble's favorite hat. I'm particulary flattered to have made a cameo:

Hopefully Tumble's comforter-swaddled, one-man procession to Kinko's and back was the boost his system needed. My laptop has informed me i'm running on reserve power and "Tiny" has informed me that he needs my bench to "lie down for a spell," so I should probably end things here.
All the best, -F

posted @ 11:49 PM est [link]