A dull day at the diary

Today I worked just three hours at Judith's house, scrubbing her tub, washing her dishes, and scouring her sink. The scrubbing and scouring was unpleasant; it had been years since anyone rubbed Ajax into the porcelain, and despite my sweat spent, some of the stains are still there.

I'd hoped to make a 6- or 8-hour day of it, but Judith went to sleep soon as I started work, stayed asleep the whole time, and didn't answer when I knocked on her door, so I couldn't wake her to ask what to clean next. And also I was tuckered, and didn't knock as loud as I maybe might have. 

Left her a note, "You owe me for three hours, see you tomorrow." Then I BARTed back to San Francisco, promptly fell asleep on the train, and didn't wake up until the driver yelled at me at the end of the line, in Daly City.

That's a dull day at the diary, even for me. It's not writer's block (never experienced that, really), it's just a pathetic life. Can't say you didn't know that before you sent me your three bucks. This zine is often boring, as boring as my life, and insignificant, utterly predictable, etc, but the title tells the truth.

♦ ♦ ♦

Randomly pathetic observations:

• Today my arm pits smell curiously of cauliflower.

• My flatmate Pike's girlfriend is sick, so she hasn't been in the apartment yesterday and today. I hope she's sick tomorrow, too.

• There's vomit on the wooden steps up to our apartment. Might he hers. Might be a stranger's, or a dog's. It's not mine, though, so I'm not cleaning it up.

• Someone mailed me three glossy porno magazines instead of three dollars, for a copy of the zine. Deal.

From Pathetic Life #13
Monday, June 5, 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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