today it’s been storm and sun off and on, and it smells like it’s been raining milk, because every time the sun comes out and hits the gathered puddles in the street, there’s a horrible rancid odor, which i thought at first smelled like the insides of a dead cow, but i’m sure now that the smell is actually spoiled cow secretions and not cow internal organs.
that was one sentence.
the southmore house got evicted from the southmore house, and tonight we went to see their new place, which consists of an apartment building, an adjacent house, and a former body shop called “now it’s fixed.” veronica, dave, rob, ellen, erica and i made the five-block trip from old southmore to new, where we opened the garage doors and explored “now it’s fixed”. it’s a typical body shop, with grimy brick walls, a greasy toilet, and an office and closet encrusted with gook. dave and rob and ellen walked down the street to fiesta to get beer, and twenty minutes later we were drinking shiner, munching doritos, and watching dave pressure-wash the dirt from the walls. we each took a turn with the hose, spraying the white-painted cinderblocks, watching ancient filth flow down to the concrete floor. on one of the walls, a poster of alan jackson endorsing body paint was annihilated.
i feel like me again.
after two weeks in massachusetts, five days in the midwest, an eight-hour drive from ohio to missouri, and a two-hour flight from missouri to texas, i am home. i’ve been to nine states, two weddings, and a concert. i’ve scattered millions of grass seeds over hundreds of bare patches of earth. i’ve worn three pairs of shoes. in the parking lot of my apartment, two shopping carts and a couch have been added, and an ancient volkswagen has been taken away. i feel as though little pieces of myself have been taken away, too, but i don’t know which pieces or where i left them
but my suitcase was still heavy.