Spitball Army

Grace Bergere, a young rock drummer, remained hospitalized yesterday with an injured hip.

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When the jagged, moldy, fractured tub surround was completely removed, the wall was the wholly unappetizing color of alien baby vomit flavored with chocolate squiggles.

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Am strangely tired, and would dearly like to spend the night in my own bed, nice as that feather bed at the Charles was.

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The subway system no longer takes tokens. They have taken the “branding” approach, as well, as the tickets that you buy from a machine (automation again, as at the airport) are called “Charlie,” as in “Charlie on the MTA!!” It took me awhile to figure out how to buy one. The lines to buy with cash were very, very long, and no one was purchasing at the credit card line, so I did that. It wasn’t easy, at first, all touch screen technology and menus, but I would be a pro a second time.

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At this point in the monologue, Gray has met with realtor Jamie d’Angelo at least once to investigate purchasing his decrepit cabin in the mountains, thinking that it would make an ideal, rustic setting, perfect for inspiring his writing career. Upon closer inspection, the house is rife with serious problems, including – but not limited to – a furnace in the attic, a shifting foundation, and a porch that is travelling away from the building. Gray has asked d’Angelo to arrange repairs to the home, while at the same time soliciting some of the same people to do the work.

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Swimming lessons in the morning were followed by an hour or two on the monkey bars, which were followed by splashing and diving at the pool which, in turn, led to swinging and teeter-tottering into the twilight hours. But for me, ultimately, the emphasis was on the happenings at the swimming pool. I was a water baby.

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I remember when you were building that fence, we used to watch the woman who lived on the corner walk her dog up the alley and let it take a dump right behind my house. She’d just stand there watching it, smoking a cigarette. You eventually got talking with her, and she coincidentally stopped using my backyard as her dog’s potty. Well, she died last year, after battling on and off again with cancer. We had become friendly. She used to ask about you all the time.

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Say, one really can get a lot on these V mails when typing. I’m almost running out of material.

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I was shocked when I saw Uncle Pete but he looks better to me already, maybe I’m getting used to him. He uses his arm pretty well but it is quite stiff yet – that is in reaching his face.

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Are you able to collect many pictures or postcards? I can just hear your asking me, “Bunches, care if I show my ______ pictures?” Just as you always did about the Icelandic ones – you Darling.

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