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A key and a phone

The drips fill buckets in the rez hotel as the rains continue, and it’s starting to look like one of those 40-day and 40-night deals. My wrist hurts, from polishing brass and some light-to-medium heavy lifting at the shop yesterday and today, but LeeAnn says she won’t send me out to stand on the sidewalk when it’s raining, and I appreciate that.

Midway through the day, a surprise at the shop — Pike walked in, asked for me at the counter, and Stevi sent him to the back room, behind a curtain, where I was working. He said, “Here’s your key, dude,” and handed me a key to our shitty apartment.

I was honestly impressed, and about 60% verklempt. When I’d paid the rent yesterday, Pike told me he’d get me a key today, but we never discussed how that would happen. I figured I’d call him today or maybe tomorrow, and we’d arrange a time and place. But earlier I’d told him that I was working day shifts at a new store called Unusualia and Urban Mermaids, and with that one clue he called 4-1-1, got the address, and showed up with my key. You ask me, that’s quite resourceful, for a teenage stoner.

He also said he’s getting a phone installed, and asked if I wanted to split the bill. I told him that’s an idea I’d need to think about, and I’m still thinking about it.

See, I have always hated phones. For years, I've used a voice mail service, checking my messages and returning any calls from phone booths, instead of having a phone.

I can't stand the interruptions — you’re supposed to drop whatever you’re doing whenever the phone rings, and run to answer it, to talk to anyone on earth who dials your digits at any given time. Which is often someone trying to sell something.

So yeah, I hate the telephone, but… if Pike’s getting a phone, that means I’ll hear it ringing anyway, whenever anyone calls. So pay or don't pay, I still get the interruptions. Guess I might as well pay, and then some of the interruptions will be for me.

Sigh. So, jeez, for the first time in ten years or so, I’ll have a phone number attached to a real phone. Yet another major change in my pathetic life.

♦ ♦ ♦

Before and after working at the shop, I did nothing but work on Dahlia’s script. I've decided I can't decide whether it's any good. It's a comedy, but it's not making me laugh, typing it. Then again, I'm getting tired of typing it. 

Occasionally I take a break to go down to the sidewalk and check my messages from the phone booth, and it occurred to me as I was pumping coins into the public phone, getting a phone of our own means I’ll save a few dollars in coins, but... Pike and I will need to share an answering machine, too. All these changes sure are getting complicated…

And I gotta make sure my mom never gets my new phone number, or she’d be ringing me up round the clock.

From Pathetic Life #10
Friday, March 10, 1995

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.

Pathetic Life 

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