Miscellaneous

First, made a list of errands. Try to remember the various things we'll need. Go by Janitorial Supply. They got in the Peroxy 2 cleaner we needed, the scrubber is ready, and one of their reps is loaning the correct brush. We buy his products, he supplies the brush. We've tried all the pads and brushes, this one has long medium-stiffness bristles that works on both the tile and the grout. Didn't get everything moved out of the gallery, but we'll make short work of that first thing. Got side-tracked into patching and repairing, then painting the little Mehser gallery as there's a student show opening the first of next week. What with the mopping and finishing, don't know when I'll install that. Stopped at the Office Supply for some things. Stopped at the hardware store for a throw away sponge mop, to do the edges with the Terra Glaze, and to get some spray glue, so I can do labels for the student show. Stopped at Kroger and got some Orange Cleaner, bought a few groceries, as it started snowing. I'm not going home until the floor is finished. They start installing the new alarm system Tuesday. I'll be the Night Watchman for a few more cycles. Just made the rounds, talking into my shoulder, rattling gates and checking doors. Curious, when I get back to writing, after the prowl, I notice that there seems to be another paragraph stored in Drafts. I'm new to Mac. Don't remember what it's about. Went over to the college, to touch a couple of bases. Involved issue. I talk with Pegi every day, and she needs help, an assistant, an intern, someone to do stuff for her, and also to help with the writing, press releases, radio spots. I thought a place to look might be among recent graduates from the Art Department who hadn't found work. Which would be most of them. I can vet the number down by asking them to write a short paragraph about whatever room in which we found ourselves. A simple exercise. Attention to detail is the critical element. So when I finished painting I went over to the U, talked with the art department secretary, told her to tell Lane, the finest of the Art History people, AND keeps in contact with his students. He might know someone. After work, a pint of Murphy's stout, the younger John, the manager, bar-tender four nights a week, comes over, where I'm sitting, nursing a pint, before retreating again to solitude. The Natchez Trace follows a buffalo trail. Compress history, you really don't have to remember everything. The occasional nod is often enough. Sure, I remember You. Listen, darling, I was there. Nothing, nothing, nothing, then a newsreel, your president admits he's a shyster. Kind of takes the cake. I don't know why I suddenly didn't give a damn. Fucking constructs. Pegi asked me to do another show, that really took my attention. Something that isn'd root-balls, was my first response. Life on the Ohio. I'm almost as Bob Evans as anyone else. I mean what the fuck, I need to eat breakfast. You, and your ilk. They drink decaffinated coffee as if was real. God bless their lost souls.