from the vault of my rapidly balding head

We must have worked there in the first couple of months I was cleaning windows though I don't remember it exactly. The house looked normal and nice from the front, a good sized porch, an interesting paint color, and a metal roof. But when I walked around the back of the house I saw a swimming pool and noticed that the fence didn't divide the yard from the house next to it. I asked my boss about it. He told me the guy's mother and father lived next door. So it was like a compound or something-plastic playground and tricycles littering the yard-right in the middle of town and people didn't know it.
The homeowner didn't pay me any attention. He kinda knew my boss, maybe their kids played soccer together, and in general he seemed like he was too cool for school. Whatever-it wasn't the first time a homeowner didn't talk to me and it ain't the last. I was probably 250 lbs during that first visit, now fast forward two years or so and I was down to 180. We had been back to the compound at least once in the two years but homeowner I guess didn't notice because he called one day and asked my boss if he could get on the roof and hang a decorative star on the side of his house. Then he told my boss that he'd prefer if he did the hanging and not the guy that worked for him (meaning me) 'he's pretty big and I'm worried he might fall through' he said. My boss only told me this because I had slimmed down and had a sense of humor. But fuck that guy.
The other day I heard someone mention they had seen the homeowner out in his yard walking with a cane. 'I'm pretty sure he had a stroke,' this guy said to me. I'm not saying there's such a thing as it or if I believe in that kind of thing-it starts with a K and ends with an A, but don't be talking shit about fat people. Buddha had a belly.

can't she say something

I realize that I haven't post anything in a while and the other day while wandering our town square I got to thinking why. It turns out that I haven't really been pissed off by anything lately, at least nothing that lasted long enough for me to make it home and decided to type.

Now that doesn't mean that I'm not bored, because I am, even though I'm working full time. I haven't had a good conversation in a bit and my current writing project is stalled so maybe I need somebody or something to piss me off. Where's Sarah Palin when you need her?

More New Fiction News

Late last night word came through the internet that my story The Wire Out was won second prize in The Barry Hannah Memorial Contest at Fried Chicken and Coffee. They'll be publishing it in the new future and of course, dear blog reader, I'll be letting you know when that happens.

The story started as an assignment at Goddard for The No Masters No Gods informal class. Later at that residency several of us were driving between Plainfield and Montpelier when I spotted a man working on the highway holding the stop/go sign. Then the next day Darcey asked us to describe something without naming it in her Lucid Detail workshop. I described that guy, then put some things together.

Badass & Sexy

How many times can I say 'if it weren't for $300,000 second home condos I'd be unemployeed' and not feel like a sellout.

The 200 Washington Complex isn't exactly one of my favorite places. It's half a mile or less from the square and a block from campus but it's filled with out of towners who live elsewhere part of the time. One of my least favorite customers lives here. We call him the enemy and in the previous post I've put a link to a story I published about him and as luck would have it the day before that story went live we were summond back to the enemy's place.



From the roof of the enemy's place. My first winter with The Window King we sprayed bleach on every piece of white you can see here, and more. I ruined a pair of pants doing it.



I don't understand why so many people with so much money want to live so close to each other. I've literly gotten lost in the 200 Washington Complex even though it's only a circle, but everything looks the same. Over and Over again.

The Enemy came out and shook my hand when we first arrived. He was pleasent and decent, women his own age probably call him dapper. They might even whisper to each other about why he stays with that pill popping wife of his. After finishing his place a series of events led to the money shot. 1. We had to clean the place across the way from the enemy. 2. The Window King had to go to the accountant's office and thus moved the van. 3. The Enemy sat on his porch, chewed a cigar and read. 4. I climbed the roof of the opposite condo.

AND THUS-----

New Fiction

Hey y'all,

I've got a new thing up at Muscadine Lines. It's called The Enemy Sat Shotgun and as soon as I finished typing this I'm going to work up a post about my most recent adventures with The Enemy, including photos.