Billy Bob makes a movie worth the wait

Handwritten page of a diary dated October 2, 2007

then we were trying to kill some time before the movie started, but I was having trouble concentrating. We were going to see “Mr. Woodcock” and everybody knows I’ve got the biggest fattest crush on Billy Bob Thornton. Ever since we saw “Pushing Tin” 10 years ago or whenever that was.

I was actually nervous. Jittery. So Candy was trying to distract me and she shows me a picture of her son. I try to look interested, but all I notice is that his lamp has the same pattern that used to be on Dixie cups in the old days. And his desk looks like it’s a slab of white something, which, on the left, is sitting on a TV tray, and, on the right, is suspended in mid-air.

I needed me some Billy Bob.


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Published in: on June 30, 2010 at 4:30 am  Leave a Comment  

Thanks for the curtains that don’t go with my room

Handwritten page of a diary dated December 25, 1969

just because I happen to like to ride horses doesn’t mean I wanted my windows covered with them! That was my Christmas present! She took some ancient fabric out of her ancient trunk and made curtains for all the windows in my room. And if she happened to take a look around, everything else in there is bright purple, which doesn’t happen to go with brown and yellow and aqua!

I didn’t want her to feel bad since she musta spent about a year making them, so I was nice and pretended I like them … but only because this is the dawning of the age of Aquarius.


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Published in: on June 29, 2010 at 4:30 am  Leave a Comment  

Hungry for the good things

Handwritten page of a diary dated November 2, 2004

To whoever or whatever is in charge of this universe, I want to thank you so much for bringing me a woman who is as hungry as I am.

Whether it’s a burrito or a soft pillow or a beautiful song, she feels it deep down to her soul. The other day she asked me to wash her hair for her. Of course I said yes and she smiled all the way through.

I’m a humble man who deeply appreciates the everyday pleasures and I was extremely sure there weren’t any beautiful women out there who felt the same way. I have NEVER been so happy to be wrong about something.


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Published in: on June 28, 2010 at 4:30 am  Comments (1)  

‘Very best nap’

Handwritten page of a diary dated August 28, 1994

walked about three miles. Sun came out. We both realized it was going to be a long walk back. Then we spotted the couch.

He sat on it. I had visions of microscopic bedbugs inside. Eventually I set the air mattress down on the couch, put a beach towel over it. Laid down on that. He saw how comfortable I looked and unpacked the tablecloth to make a roof over us. It had side flaps too. A little cocoon.

Very best nap of my young life.


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Published in: on June 25, 2010 at 4:30 am  Leave a Comment  

‘Needs some redecorating’

Handwritten page of a diary dated March 25, 1987

and this is exactly what it said: “Large loft-style apartment. French doors. Building is in a decent location. Price is low because it needs some redecorating.”

I had to work late, so I sent Ned over to look at it. He called me from there and told me it was great and there were other people there and he wanted to rent it so we wouldn’t lose it. It’s one of those moments you replay in your head later and wish you could go back and give a different answer — an answer involving the word NO.

He swung the door open and I couldn’t speak. He kept saying stuff like “I knew you’d have a hundred ideas for this” and “Can you imagine how cool this could be?”

Finally, when I regained the power of speech, I said: “Needs some redecorating? Seriously? I think when you have no floor or ceiling, REDECORATING is not a big enough word.”

He said he has friends who can put in a floor and a ceiling for cheap and all I have to do is pick out some colors. Yeah. OK Ned. I’ll run right out and get some swatches.


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Published in: on June 24, 2010 at 4:30 am  Leave a Comment  

Proofreading is a life sentence

Handwritten page of a diary dated Sept. 1, 2007

hadn’t seen each other since we both used to work at the same newspaper in the late ’90s.

We used to talk about the Burning Man festival and we always promised we’d go some day, but I didn’t really expect we would. Then he got a job in Las Vegas, and he called to say we should really go this year. And now we’re here.

Other than the fact that we constantly have to worry about sunscreen, we’re having a massively good time, except for our argument over playing mini golf. We played a lot in the old days because there was a course next to the good hamburger place, and I usually lost, but once in a while — just often enough to make it interesting — I’d whoop him good.

So at the festival I said, “We have to play this mini golf course for old time’s sake.”

He said, “No, they spelled GOLF wrong on their sign.”

I said I’d already noticed it, but we should play anyway.

He said, “Two proofreaders can’t play at a place called MINI GLOF.”

I said, “Come on, we’re not proofreaders any more.”

He said, “You can’t quit being a proofreader — even if no one’s paying you to do it. Once you’re a proofreader, you’re a proofreader for life.”

So instead of playing, we went for a ride with some guys who had their golf cart decorated like a metal duck with flames shooting out of its head.


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Published in: on June 23, 2010 at 4:30 am  Leave a Comment  

Did you have to bring the plastic chair?

Handwritten page of a diary dated September 18, 1988

of course I know it’s not a vineyard in Italy, but I can pretend can’t I? I had it all fixed up and I went out there sometimes when I needed to be alone. I guess some people don’t need their alone time but I’m not one of those. I could spend a week up there if I had the right groceries.

Then Terry came along and needed a place to stay so I said ok but only for a few months and she said fine yes sure fine of course.

She pulled up in my driveway and took out 15 or 20 eeny weeny suitcases and an ugly-mugly god-awful puke-pink plastic chair. Now that chair is in front of my cabin and I look at it with the binoculars. It taunts me. Would I be a bad host if I dug a 6-foot  hole and buried that pink chair deep deep in the forest?


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Published in: on June 22, 2010 at 4:30 am  Leave a Comment  

Orchid lady has two groupies

Handwritten page of a diary dated May 1, 2003

when Melvin dragged me to see the lecture. I hate lectures and I am not that interested in orchids like Melvin is, which I wonder why he is, but I do not know.

We got there and Melvin said look — she is serving some champagne. He knows I like champagne.

Champagne was good. It always is. But the lady also served some sweet vanilla bread wrapped in hunks of aluminum foil. Homemade. After we ate it, she said, does it taste good? I said yes ma’am. She said it had orchids in the ingredients. Oh my!

These days Melvin and I go around to all the lectures she gives I pretend to be interested in orchids. I don’t hog very much champagne. I mostly just want to eat the bread she makes.


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Published in: on June 21, 2010 at 4:30 am  Leave a Comment  

Lenny was layin’ low

Handwritten page of a diary dated April 12, 1996

so I guess it’s the first picture that was ever taken of us together and I didn’t even know it till recently.

Jake took the picture. He was my boyfriend at the time. Blonde Eddie looks like he was whispering, probably saying “psst, don’t marry Jake or you’ll be real real sorry” but I always ignored Blonde Eddie and all them, thinking I knew best, and damn damn DAMN do I ever hate it when I’m wrong. Jake turned out to be only the most giant son of a bitch the county ever produced (even though there was some strong (very strong) competition for that title). We were only married a year and two months and four days (but who’s counting? tee hee).

After Jake slithered away I lived alone a few years. You know I didn’t mind it at all. Then Lenny started volunteering to mow my lawn after he got his big tractor, so I cooked him supper those nights and then seemed like one day we woke up together with wedding rings on. And every time we had an anniversary, I decided I liked him even more than the year before.

Yesterday I found this picture with Lenny in the background — with that pretty long brown hair he used to have. I was surprised in a big huge honkin way to find a picture of us together because I barely knew him when we were teenagers. But Lenny said he wasn’t that surprised because he used to be near me more than I used to notice.


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Published in: on June 18, 2010 at 4:30 am  Leave a Comment  

Hey Mom where’s your pimp?

Handwritten page of a diary dated July 19, 1995

after I found the picture of my mom and her best friend Mary.

Later I was at the lunch table and I said ‘Mom I didn’t know you used to be a hooker when you lived in Philadelphia.’

She said — which I knew she would say — exCUSE me? She always says that when she’s annoyed with me.

I went to get the picture and brought it to her. She said ‘We were dressed up to go to a party and we were waiting for your uncle to give us a ride. That is not hooker clothing … Which of us do you think looks like a hooker?’

I said ‘Well, I think you both do’ and of all the answers I coulda said I guess that one was not the best. She made me go to the library with her to look at old magazines from the seventies. I coulda thought up about 17 thousand things better to do with my afternoon. At least.

But she feels better now because she proved she wasn’t (necessarily) a hooker just because she was dressed in those clothes.


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Published in: on June 17, 2010 at 4:30 am  Leave a Comment