Posted By Caulimovirus on July 29, 2011
July 23rd, 2010
Despicable Me w/ Holly and Keith. Kind of sucked. Oscar’s music parcel came. We’ll see how that turns out. /Movie/
.: Keith lived on the first floor of the house whose second floor I had just started renting. An aficionado of Lego and curator of innumerable model aircraft, he was a warrior steadfast in his opposition to boredom: he could always be found wielding a hammer, drill, or other constructive implement while searching for scrap metal, wood, or PVC to incorporate into ladder, ramp, or fortress; he annotated every page of his copy of “The Dangerous Book for Boys” with neon-colored sticky notes protruding all over like tentacles, prompting comparisons to the more unorthodox species of the Ordovician seafloor; and he apologized to none for his public love of Lady Gaga and the Black Eyed Peas. As he was 11 years old, he could be both adored and forgiven for these qualities.
.: Holly had seen the trailer for Despicable Me during one of our movie outings and had laughed in a manner disproportionate to what the content on the screen would in a normal person her age evoke. With undue excitement, she suggested we take Keith to see the movie. We did. It sucked.
July 24th, 2010
Nearly killed self moving. Desk and hutch don’t fit in doorway. […] Oscar’s parcel is fantastic.
.: One of my greatest regrets in moving to New Jersey was having brought a house worth of relatives’ furniture along with me. Rather than furnish my apartment with future landfill material from Ikea, I reasoned that having familiar houseware around me would help ease the transition from Texas and counter any swellings of homesickness. My reasoning was flawed and cursedly so — such was the conclusion I reached as my new landlord and I struggled against 9.81 m/s² of solid oak desk. So large was this executive (and so narrow was the stairway) that even the metal levelers had to be removed to make use of every available inch. Keith, naturally curious and helpful, kept poking his easily crushable head into the hallway below, even after stern proclamations of his likely crushing should he continue doing so.
.: Eventually the two(!) of us managed the haul the desk up the stairs. Our jubilation was cut short, however, when we tried to fit it through the main doorway only to have it laugh at our idealism. Since we were in no condition to carry it back down the stairs, we simply relegated it to a permanent spot in the stairwell where it would serve no purpose except to mock us daily with its presence. Then, immediately afterwards, the exact same thing happened with a hutch.
.: Oscar’s music parcel included three mixtapes and a 60-year-old book boasting the varied and uncontested superiorities of Texas, many of which remain unchanged since the original date of publication. Supposedly each mixtape had a specific theme, but I only managed to identify the theme of the second one: I miss you, come back, you’re everything I need to complete who I am, etc. The other two CDs had tracks by the likes of Scissor Sisters and The Bar-Kays, which I guess could share the same theme as the second disc, but with more dancing.
July 25th, 2010
Moved out of shit-hole apartment on Paulus.
.: All I had left to do was sweep the floors and scrub a few counters. I had given away most of the leftover cleaning supplies to the neighbors, and all that remained in the apartment was a mop, broom, sponge, bucket, and step-stool upon which was placed a box of donuts. The front door was open because I didn’t think I’d have to worry about theft at that point, and one of the neighbor’s toddlers wandered in without me noticing. Moments later I heard her mother calling for her from inside the apartment, and I stop scrubbing the counters to investigate. I found the kid emerging from my back room with one of my donuts in hand. Amused by her sneakery, I asked her where she got that donut from. Before she could give the standard toddler response of confusion mixed with blanket denial, her mother realized what had happened and hit her on the head. She didn’t even try to explain to her daughter why it’s wrong to take other people’s things; rather, she just started yelling at her.
.: I tried to put a stop to it, but having never learned how to deal with parents who are awful human beings, all I could offer was a limp, “Hey — what the hell?!” It didn’t do much to dissuade her. Soon, another mom arrived and they both started laughing at me for thinking it wrong to hit someone five times as small as you. Having schooled me in Parenting 101, the first mom yanked her daughter by the arm, and they left to join the others out front. I reflected on how glad I was to be moving and how I never had to see these people again. I gathered my thoughts, grabbed the remaining donuts, went outside, and gave them all to the toddler and her siblings.
July 26th, 2010
July 27th, 2010
July 28th, 2010
July 29th, 2010
Loud and boisterous night out w/ family. SLEPT.
.: This was the first road trip Holly and I spent together. The official reason for the trip was to attend my friends Larry and Melissa’s wedding in Texas. When I told my advisor that I’d be gone for two weeks, his response was appropriately curt: “Long wedding.”
.: The preceding weeks were particularly stressful on Holly as her parents’ approval of the trip wavered daily. Not that she needed it, really, since she was already living with me and her financial dependence was limited to her inclusion on the family’s cellphone plan — but it would have been nice. Also, she was 25, how was this not happening?
.: So we drove. My notes are a little sparse, so I’m not sure which night we stopped at her aunt’s house in Georgia. We definitely stopped at the house of somebody who lived in the south, for every bedside table had its official collection of Lewis Grizzard stories, and the central air made the summer outside unnoticeable.
.: We finally arrived at my brother’s house just north of Houston. Judging by the use of capital letters to emphasize having slept the following night, I can surmise that we did not get much of a chance to sleep immediately after arriving. The next day was full of introductions and my dad, ever the considerate entertainer, treated us all to an authentic Brooklyn pizzeria — you really could taste the geographical distinctness! Holly did what she does best and quickly had a whole table of strangers develop a strong liking to her. I recall her leaving my dad unable to respond on several occasions, but in a good way.
.: Isolated quote of the evening: “Dad, what would you say is your favorite type of prolapse?” “The kind you get.”