They shut the water off in my building again. There’s a leak. There’s always a leak in this place. In seven months there’s been at least seven leaks. The last one took almost ten hours to fix. Ten hours with no running water. So far today the water has been shut off for two hours and twenty minutes.
I just fed Miso on my stairway. Crazy cat. Last Monday he spent all day with me. He ate, slept, and cuddled with me while I wrote. Then yesterday he came by to eat but snubbed his food and randomly hissed at me a bunch of times. And just now he came by, ate enough food for three grown cats and immediately left. He’s a weird animal but I love him. I would leave bowls of ice water on the landing if I thought my neighbor who I share the landing with was ok with it. I’m back to not feeding Miso in my apartment for a few days at least. When he gets crazy and hisses at me for no reason he’s difficult to get rid of.
Pets aren’t allowed in the building. I’m not sure how my neighbor feels about Miso. He seems ok with seeing Miso come and go. He hasn’t mentioned being deathly allergic to cats or anything like that.
My neighbor who I share my security gate and stairway with lives opposite my front door. Meaning I can see his apartment door out my peep hole, and he can see mine vice versa. On occasion he’s passed Miso on the stairway but so far hasn’t said anything that I’m aware of. He’s the third tenant to live in that apartment since I moved in seven months ago. The guy who rents the apartment below him is also the third tenant in that apartment since I moved here. Las Vegas is a very transient city of people coming and going. Although I’m sure the crazy junkies trying to break into our apartments every 15th and 29th day of the month has something to do with renters not sticking around.
“Heil Hitler. White power!” The white homeless man said squatting down in front of a beauty store a block away from my apartment building with his pants around his knees.
Venice, CA. One of the most expensive cities in Southern CA to rent in and it’s infested with drugs, the mentally ill, and homeless, not to mention I also had a nutjob stalker landlord with Alzheimers. I guess living there for a year and a half makes living here easy, peezy, Japaneezy. Pretty soon the constant 110 degree Vegas heat will drive the crazies underground until 3am when it’s bearable outside for about an hour. My poor stray kitty. What am I going to do with you when it gets to 110 degrees out and I have to leave to go to work?
I would have gone to the library once I discovered the water in my building was shut off again, but the closest library is two and a half miles from my apartment and I wasn’t in the mood to walk it again. I walked it yesterday. It’s not a library of books but rather a library of dvds and Blu Rays. My look how far we’ve come. As I may have mentioned before, Las Vegas isn’t exactly a city filled with readers. Nonetheless movies are good. I love movies. I checked out the entire third season of The Musketeers, and Trumbo.
Trumbo, that’s the movie I went to see in West Hollywood and was carded upon entry resulting with me cutting off all my dyed black hair the next day and growing out my natural grey hair color. And I’ve not regret doing so. Not for one single minute.
Today is Byron’s birthday. I wonder if his brothers thought of him of at all? Rhetorical question. Of course they didn’t. Death, when family can finally kick your rotting corpse to the curb, loot your valuables, and never have to think of you ever again.
I lived in Los Angeles for 25 years. Naturally as one can imagine I’m now dead inside. I don’t care about the general population anymore. Not really. Not like I used to. Professional fighters got nothing on Nat Geo Wild Animal Planet. Who do you want to win between a skin and bones starving polar bear and a cute fat adult sea lion. That’s where the money is. That’s the real fight. Boxing would be more interesting to me if two random people were plucked from the street to fight over the multi million dollar purse professional boxers make. Fight Club! Which animal do you want to die so another may live?
By the way, I finally watched Fight Club. I don’t understand the love for this movie other than boys liking it for the blood and gore.
It seems Miso finally caught a bird. He came over not long ago and a little feather fell from his mouth. Poor birdie. I’m proud of Miso, but sad for birdie.
Some junkie and her little shitty dog were walking by my building. The junkie had her dog on a leash but wasn’t holding the leash. Kind of defeats the purpose, eh? All of a sudden I heard a cat scream MROWWW!! outside my window. I ran outside and saw this junkie’s shitty little dog chasing Miso into the bushes. I told the junkie to collect her dog but said it in a way assuring her if she didn’t collect her dog immediately she’d be scraping her shitty little dog from the bottom of boot.
Which animal do you want to die so another may live?
The water in my building has been shut off now for three and a half hours. I just spoke with the workers fixing the leak and they said they’ll turn the water back on around 8pm.
Let’s see. What else.
I’ve been re-reading and revisiting books and movies from my young teenage days. Primarily S.E. Hinton.
Salinger’s Catcher In The Rey, Laura Ingram’s Little House On The Prairie series, and S.E. Hinton’s That Was Then This Is Now, Rumblefish, The Outsiders, and Tex, were my favorite books when I was about 11 - 13 years old. Those books meant a great deal to me. Still do on account of being part of my childhood. Look at all the actors in those movies directed by Francis Ford Coppola, back when movies made movie stars, pin ups, interviews, no social media, no internet, and we couldn’t wait until they made their next film. Now there’s no need to wait. Every actor has Twitter, instagram, Snapchat, there’s hundreds of online movie magazines, gossip television, reality tv, podcast, and YouTube.
Much like The Musketeers, I love stories about people. Especially stories about men. If honorable men are to be non existent in the real world at least we can write stories about them. Legends. Alexandre Dumas wrote the greatest line in the history among honorable fighting men, “All for one. One for all.” As for myself, I’m still searching for that one cause to live and die for. Nature will simply have to take its course with me until then.
There is nothing more glorious for a red blooded (heterosexual) woman than heroic men in uniform saving the day. I’d like to think I’d be willing to die for some great cause like saving children from a burning fire, until then feeding and protecting this stray cat will have to do.
My bank is like four blocks from my apartment. The other day while walking to my bank an older man perhaps in his late 60’s stopped in his tracks as I walked past him, leering at me sexually, leering at my bare youthful face, that is until I said, “I’m 50 years old.” In response he quickly looked away and grunted in absolute disgust. Yup. Works every time.
“Tex Mccormick is trying to become a man. And it’s not easy.”
Ah. The water’s back on.
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