So my pal is with a college degree now, but wants to be the Sexton at the Episcopal church instead of manage the cell-phony store where he just started as a sales man.

You know those little store-front cell phone stores with their meager displays and nothing much to do but stand there with a co-worker and wait for a customer (who is usually coming in to down-grade).

He's stuck there so I wanted to stop by and take advantage, that he had a leash that could only go so far, and an invisible cage so he couldn't deck me if I got out of line.

I put him through his paces as a salesman, which I suppose helped pass the time of his shift.
_____
I said, suppose the worst. That I had no lifeline at all. Like my last enabler was gone to St. Peter and I needed a cell phone.

His first question actually startled me, since I am not frontal-lobed. He said that depends on your credit.

So we looked up to see if I had any of this mysterious.

And The Phone Company said my credit was fine! We were both surprised. I don't mean mildly surprised, I mean like, holy moses, and our eyes darting around instinctually for signs of danger or a trick.

What about the student loans from the '80s, I defaulted on. What about the millions of dollars I owe doctors and hospitals? And as a drunk, there never was a landlord I didn't eventually go out the window to escape. I know at least two of them filed lawsuits in my 25 years of postponing The Hangover.

So! It wasn't going to be a track-phone then, if this situation arrived where I was actually orphaned. I'd be able to sign a contract and get a free phone!

We went to the wall and I saw all the prices writ large. But those were not the prices. Not those in large print.

He said something like, "The large print gives, the small print take-ess away." A Tom Waits aphormism , he told me.

I said, can you save that credit report to file? Can you show the credit report has already been done? Ha, ha. No. What if you went and blew it this afternoon?

So I went home and applied for a credit card. Because who knows in this crazy world that has always let me be. Maybe I can finally go American. In which case I can, for instance, get a plane ticket to come stay at your house for awhile if I'm ever in trouble.

Am I in recovery? Summers are iffy. So we cross our fingers and hope the world does not extend me credit. Because you know why? Then my credit score would go down, of course.

Since Whitman's day

" Baseball, to me, is still the national pastime because it is a summer game. I feel that almost all Americans are summer people, that summer is what they think of when they think of their childhood. I think it stirs up an incredible emotion within people." ~Steve Busby
___ ____

"It breaks your heart. It is designed to break your heart. The game begins in spring, when everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall alone. " ~A. Bartlett Giamatti

"Win or lose they always gave their best"


Just a picture I like. I noticed two boys (left) helping their dad, who is in charge of the concession stand.

Girls. Still better than boys.

The couple on the left love their boy so much. They never miss a game. I can tell they do, is all. God keep them.

Two girls and two flying balloons in a post-flag era.

Full moon up there!

"Baseball is a game dominated by vital ghosts; it's a fraternity, like no other we have of the active and the no longer so, the living and the dead." ~Richard Gilman

I got it made, continued

I got it made this summer.

Islecom, the university library consortium, extended my stay until September. They increased my work-load by 1/3rd but gave me a three day weekend.

I was so happy I forgot to ask, what about a raise? I don't really care though. We're good. The gap between the rich and poor, which the New York Times often laments during Republican administrations, is finally narrowing.

Last night, thieves ransacked my glove compartment and left all sorts of lost items on the passenger seat. Keep-sakes. A love letter. A phone number. I'm rich in pens, now.

They didn't take my library books.

There were no jewels No Nothin' !
- (all quotes here are from Dylan)

And it was reassuring that they were caught red-handed, after midnight. The human alarm went up and they were made to casually stroll on down the street.

This is a good neighborhood in the middle of a bad neighborhood. It's well lighted, and the residents are mostly reformed crooks themselves. And insomniacs.

My girl has a boy and a Golden Retriever puppy, I've told you here, so I am blessed that she shares her life with me. We go to a lot of little league games and practices. The 14 year old is relishing his summer off from school and I am feeling that almost forgotten feeling, like it's contagious.

I get off at noon and usually go over there around four, when we go to the batting cages or to the recreational center. He lifts weights. I'll swim. We'll play Pingpong! there's the Belle of Xexaloitez!

And when his mother gets home we wait for our supper.

Then there's a movie! For the first time in 20 years I am seeing current releases. I can join in conversations at work now! I have my opinion about "No Country For Old Men", and love to hear other's take as well.

Last weekend the three of us went to a go-cart track. My Memphis, she is a fearless one; but don't pull over, keep on the inside.



The Great Zigfield and his 14 kids are game too. His house is a short distance from here.

It's true I take my life in my hands, stopping by exactly at lunch time, and my welcome is time and again interrupted by psycho-motor moments like this. See by my face, I'm pretty sure he'll not traumatize the kids.

You've heard tell about someone here ending up on the "third floor"? That's what we call it here since that's where it is. But Harmonic Zigfield will never go because who can take the time off for that??

I'm also thinking of learning to play the guitar since I've also learned in the last month that I can 1.) Rollerskate and 2.) Hit a baseball.

It's a musical family.

Don't I get around.

I like to get an unlikely picture of myself and then, eh, get on home.

Is really what it is.

Quick Repairs

On the upper deck, through the sliding glass doors of our kitchen, you can sit amidst the high tree tops, open a book over your chest, close your eyes and hear animals scratching a living. And birds tweet-tweet and trill and I like the tiny mallet sounds of the woodpeckers.

The New Sensation is the verdure, for it was a short and sudden Spring. It awakens a strange temptation in me to lean in close and wash my face in the green waxiness. And breath it in, like how I'd do with cash.

Down by the timber-clear, the crick is transparent and rippling over small rounded stones. Near by there are three tulip gardens. These are from some years ago, planted by some newly sober man. Still well cared for, anonymously, (by one of my house-mates I suppose) they are late blooming this year.

We have a terrific "Sober House" arrangement. The men are older (two of them already nonchalant cancer survivors) and we're hip to the famous "broken window theory", in regards to communal living. The house is made spotless each Sunday and we keep it that way through the week.

No one here would think of leaving a cup or a fork in the sink, for instance. No one leaves any personal items, save books or magazines, in the common areas.

It keeps everyone calm, I notice. Seven men at peace, including me. Of course it's a very large house.

This doesn't lead to --- or spring from--- any contract. It's not an edict from above, it's not an order from a mad sea captain.
It's a mutual discovery passed down from earlier tenants: Fix 'broken windows' immediately.
Don't give license by slacking off, don't take license when you see someone else slacking off.
_____
I had some bad luck over the last seven months. Evicted from a slum. Fired from a phony-baloney job. Maybe a tornado will take me to a better place, maybe a lightening strike will cure my neurasthenia. (Old fashioned word. Means dysautonomia, don't you know.)

I don't think sobriety is paying off yet but I seem to have some friends with Jesus.

I mean, Christ..! God looking over children and drunks, that's something you start to see all around you once you've finally seen it.