Worked a long shift at Black Sheets, which continues to be just an ordinary office job.The magazine is all about sex sex always sex, and we work inside an enormous party house, where the framed pictures on the wall often include penises, and there's a Playboy Mansion's worth of sex furniture in the basement, and not often but occasionally there's someone naked in the hall or on the sofa — but I'm never in the hall unless I'm headed to the toilet, and never on the sofa at all. None of the fun stuff ever happens in the office.
It's just office work, same as any other office. The phone rings, I answer it. The mail comes, I open it. A subscriber moves or renews the subscription, I update the records.
It's boring, because office work is boring, but Bill continues to be easy to get along with, occasionally funny, and his boss-instructions seem perfectly reasonable. He hasn't asked me to make coffee or change the cat's litter or anything. Oh, and there's another guy working in the office, named Steve, and he's funny and cynical, too.
Just a nice part-time job, but it sure beats working at Macy's.
♦ ♦ ♦
After work, I came home, brought the diary up to day, and cussed at the loud neighbors upstairs, but only from here in my room. Read some zines, while listening to the Giants get slaughtered by Colorado, as if I care.
Talked to Pike about the rent. He's hoping to pay me back within a few days. I'm hoping for that, too.
♦ ♦ ♦
A couple of jerkoffs down the street are arguing, loud and rude. One guy a few doors to the south is screaming at another guy a few doors to the north, who's screaming back at him. Our apartment is smack in the middle between them, so we get it all in stereo.
They've been calling each other n-words, n-word this and n-word that, shouting their insults at the same time, so each probably can't even hear what the other is screaming.
"They sound like a couple of n-words to me," Pike said, though he didn't say n-word.
And
in their own words, I guess that's what they are. I'd have to peek out
the window to see if either of them are black, and I ain't doing that.
They don't sound particularly black, though. Just angry. Just a couple
of jerkoffs. In this neighborhood, jerkoffs come in every color.
Tuesday, May 9, 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.
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