Mr Rogers and the Brick Hut

Thursday — 

Had a stupid dream last night, but enjoyed it so here it is: I was guest-hosting Mr Rogers' Neighborhood, and walked onto the set, took off my sweater and kicked off my shoes like I was supposed to, but I didn't slip into loafers and a more casual sweater. Instead I just went barefoot and shirtless, my nipples and boobies bouncing on national TV.

As the show went on, I was smoking a Dave Letterman cigar, though I don't smoke, and eating Twinkies, which I definitely do. Also farted a lot, belched, picked my nose, drank whiskey from a bottle, and offered some kid a swig. And everything I said to the kids or camera, I shouted, but it was always happy shouting, never mean. "Would you like a Diet Coke, kid?" and "Is it a beautiful day, really?"

Then that goofy train came around the corner with King Friday the 13th riding on it, ding ding, and I love that little train, so I climbed onto the table, looked inside the train, and then I sat in the train. Or tried to, but the train is tiny and I'm big and I ended up sitting on it, not in it, leaving nothing but sticks.

Nope, I don't know why I'm telling you this, except that nothing interesting happened in my life today so that's the best I got. And I love Mr Rogers, so my apologies for ruining the train set.

♦ ♦ ♦

If I put my lips together tight and suck between tongue and tooth, I can make my half-hollow left eye-tooth hurt like hell, so of course I've been doing that over and over again tonight. The hurting is a bad sign. Probably means another toothache is about to erupt.

♦ ♦ ♦

Friday — 

At 10:30 this morning, just as I was crawling out of bed to start getting ready to go sell fish on Telegraph, my boss Jay called and invited me to breakfast instead. I warned her that is we went out to eat, there's no way I'd have the stand ready by noon, but breakfast with the boss is the perfect excuse for being late to work, so we met at the Brick Hut. 

Jay had french toast with fruits and nuts on top, and flirted with the all-lesbian staff. I had wheat hotcakes, and they were dang fine indeed. Jay and I chatted about which waitress she'd like to screw, and she asked my opinion, which was awkward. It's a lesbian place, and as a rule I don't screw lesbians, or even daydream about it. 

We had some laughs, never once talked about fish, and then after breakfast when I should've been rushing to get the fish stand open late, instead we browsed at the pet supply shop down the street. I'm trying to stretch my budget, so I seriously studied their gourmet vegetarian dog food, 99¢ for a big can, and wondered if it would taste OK spread on toast, or over rice…

Didn't buy it, though. Cat food can be good when money's short, too, but I'm not yet looking for alternatives to people food.

Then Jay wanted to run an errand, and pretty soon it was 2:00, and she gave me her blessing to say fuck it and take the day off. Can't really afford that, but I couldn't bring myself to argue either. Offer me a day off, even without pay, and I'll take it, every day.

Came back to this house and room full and happy, fat and lazy. Thanks for breakfast, Jay, and now there's the whole afternoon to write, but I have nothing else to write about so I'll take a nap instead.

From Pathetic Life #18
Thursday & Friday,
November 9-10, 1995

Addendum, 2022: Ah, serious bummer. The fabulous Brick Hut Cafe is no more.

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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