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No one must know my terrible secret...

House of Noh!

Thursday, April 27, 2006

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

I also finally got that piece of glass out of the sole of my foot. "It will become a beautiful, beautiful pearl" was how I consoled myself days ago when I got tired of digging for it with tweezers in the thick hippie-pads of callused skin on the bottom of my feet. One time my grandpa on my mom's side got a inch-long metal shaving stuck in his right leg, forgot about it, and three weeks later he got an itch in his left armpit and it was that same metal shaving working its way out through his skin. He was always getting metal shavings stuck in him (like once in his eye). And one time he accidentally chain-sawed himself in the leg. The thing about the metal shavings says a lot I think about the kind of guy he was. Noble.

So I was afraid that the little shard of glass in my foot might work its way through my body and come out my pupil or something. Or what if it came out in my mouth and I accidentally swallowed it?

But the shard started coming out of my foot on its own a little bit and I grabbed it with tweezers. After half a week in my body it didn't look like a pearl at all. It looked instead like a yellow diamond.

Tuesday, April 18, 2006

Actually, I like the crummy old wooden balcony associated with my apartment too, stained as it is with pigeon crap, and being the home of a grey squirrel who's made his nest with a bunch of chewed up plastic shopping bags stuffed behind a rafter. Late at night a few days ago I was standing on my balcony and I covertly observed some sort of drunk (his back was to me) in the alley below wander up to a parked car, try all the doors, find them locked, then go on to try the doors of the next car. After the first few cars it became pretty obvious they were not his.

And this is why I like that gate: it was that gate that gave me the confidence to shout at the guy without any fear of reprisal, secure as I was at the top protected by that gate. Because, let's say the would-be car thief got all pissed and rabid and unreasonable; he would have been prevented from reaching me and attacking me by the locked gate at the bottom of the stairway, i.e. remember that movie where that girl was washed up on that island alone and she had to build that cage of sticks at the opening of her cave to protect herself from the hungry ferocious dogs that lived on the island?

So I was like, "Hey!"

Then the guy completely froze, but didn't turn around to face me, and I think he's probably used to getting arrested by the cops a lot. That's sort of what he reminded me of.

"I think that all the rest of the cars are locked too," I told him (because I knew what he was up to).

And he was like, "you’re probably right," and started slinking off. But then he started trying to explain himself, and starting shouting up and asking me for a blanket or something, because he was homeless, and because he was wet and cold, and because it was raining. I told him to fuck off, so he started walking down the street. But then I looked around and I realized that it was raining, and he probably was cold, so I told him I'd get him a tarp.

As soon as I appeared on the balcony with an old tarp from my camping gear he got really excited. He kept shouting, "Throw it down! Please! Throw it down right now!! A tarp! It’s really a tarp!!" I think he was afraid I was going to tease him with it and never give it to him (again, such teasing made possible by the gate). I was afraid it would catch on something if I threw it from my balcony so I walked down a few landings, the whole time he was begging and pleading for me to throw it from where I was at.

I finally did throw it, and he caught it. Then he started jumping up and down and shouting stuff like, "yes! A tarp!! Good God it’s really a tarp!" I told him that when he was done with it just to fold it up and slip it back under the gate. Then he got all somber, (and this is the funny part) and started explaining how he was going to be just down the road, and how he was going to wrap it around him, and other off-topic tarp related discussion topics that he conveyed in a tone that was meant (I believe) to politely inform me that he had no intention whatsoever of returning the tarp, ever. So I was just like "whatever," because it would have been a long-shot anyway to get the tarp back. But I think it really made the guy's night to get that tarp because even after I shut the door I could hear him in the alley as he walked away shouting stuff like, "yes! A tarp!! Yes!!"