From Pathetic Life #3
Thursday, August 25, 1994
Nothing much today. Nothing big. Just a boring day, for the most part.
I dreamed that I came home from work, and my mother was unexpectedly waiting in the lobby of my rez hotel, just as she'd threatened during her last visit. She was talking about Jesus and insisting that she wasn’t visiting — she said she'd moved into the room next to mine.It took me an hour to get back to sleep after that, and another weird dream awaited me — my dad wanted to talk to me about something ominous. Here in the awake world, my father died several years ago, but Dear Old Dad still pops into my dreams every month or two, and usually in dreams more pleasant than this one. I also see my long-dead grandmother once in a while. In dreams, the dead aren’t dead, and that’s nice. When I'm gone, I hope I can come back in someone's dreams.
♦ ♦ ♦
I had semi-normal social interactions with two of my neighbors today, and that's a big deal for a hermit like me.
First, a guy down the hall — I don’t even know his name — left a note under my door, asking me to wake him up at 7:30, so like a good neighbor I knocked on his door. Don’t think I’ve ever even spoken to him before; he didn’t look familiar. It's strange to ask a stranger for a wake-up knock, but this is a rez hotel — strange is the rule here. I might be the only person in the building who goes to a job five days a week, which makes me a likely pick to act as an alarm clock.
Then I ran into Luke in the lobby downstairs, and told him how much I’d enjoyed and appreciated his rant against God on Saturday. I’d thought, if our conversation went well I might invite him to breakfast, but it didn’t go particularly well. He remembered meeting me and my mom, but didn’t quite grasp what I was thanking him for, and as soon as I mentioned God he started reciting his anti-Christ spiel again. He's a loon, of course. And again, it’s a rez hotel. Strange is the rule.
This is an entry retyped from an on-paper zine I wrote many years ago, called Pathetic Life. The opinions stated were my opinions then, but might not be my opinions now. Also, I said and did some disgusting things, so parental guidance is advised.
Addendum, here and now: That was an empty entry, wasn't it? Hardly worth reading it, let alone writing it. When this was a zine, and I was printing it up and mailing out copies once a month, if one day's entry sucked, it didn't much matter — you could go on to the next entry, and maybe it would suck less, or suck in a more interesting way. On the web it's different —a sucky entry just sits there and sucks, like this one that you've wasted a few minutes reading.
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