Caterwauling

Big Giant Pussy is upstairs blasting his music when he should be packing. And I am drinking Zinfandel straight out of the bottle, trying to calm my tattered nerves. 

He sounds like he’s with a girl who doesn’t scream. They are even laughing. Hunh.  Maybe it’s the “Lucy” Thundercunt told him to go to. 

Lucy and Loser. It has a nice ring to it. 

Please God, say Lucy didn’t take over the lease and we will still be subjected to Martin Loser King and Fraggle Rock. 

In any event, today my happy moments came at Panera. Because, autumn squash soup. Also I bought an item that I returned and got a huge discount on the item I exchanged it for. Clearly the cashier made a mistake but she said just take it. And I did. 

I feel like I have started the 100 Happy Days challenge. New nephew, new shoes, a discounted shirt and butternut squash soup. Not too shabby, universe. Thanks for being kind to me. 

Also, 99% full moon …

Because who doesn’t love working till 12:30 a.m. and then having a Big Giant Pussy blubbering at 3:45 a.m. and then having brats beating on your ceiling at 6, just in time for you to get up and finish last night’s project?

It’s all good. Nothing can burst my bubble. I won’t let it. 

I mean who could be cranky when they wake up to this beautiful sight?

Relative peace as I edit tonight. That’s all right by me. 

I’ve been saying a new mantra, that money is coming my way from unexpected places. My great-uncle called tonight to say he’s sending mom a little money. 

I’m certain it’s not going to be life-changing. He sold something of my grandfather’s and got a couple bucks that he felt she should have. 

But still. Anything that doesn’t end with me spending money is a blessing. 

The thunderous ones are being mildly annoying for them. It would be hideously annoying for anyone else. But relatively speaking, my Richter rage scale is barely registering. 

Perhaps that’s because a neighbor gifted me with a brand-new pair of shoes, still stuffed with paper, that she decided she was never going to wear. 

Funny how good things start happening when you start looking for them. 

My little “thud muffins” are making the ceiling quake. One more weekend of this shit after this one. 

Jason Aldean concert tonight. Here’s to meeting a nice country boy tonight that I can ride like a rodeo steer. 

I keep singing BNL’s “One Week” every time I look at my dashboard and see the countdown. Never liked the song when it was popular during my college days, but I find it oddly comforting now.

Yesterday Mom said Thundercunt raged most of the day but then, just before I got home, took one kid (we believe the Fraggle) and left for the night.

She said she thinks Fraggle has a nervous tic. The louder the Thunders fight, the more loudly and consistently she bangs things off the floor.

When they are quiet(er) like they are right now, I can find the compassion that’s impossible to come by otherwise. But I imagine as their moving day draws nearer and tensions rise, we’ll hear enough noise to last us nine lifetimes.

***

We have this cute 4-year-old neighbor and his mom who loved the massive family of ducks who used to come here. He always had wide eyes and exclaimed about how many ducks he saw.

She often came by with other children too. I think she had four but yesterday she just brought the boy.

I wasn’t home for it but Mom said you could hear her and the boy saying they were SURE this was the area with all the ducks. Where did they go?

Mom called down that we were told not to feed them anymore. Too many were congregating. So, they were gone.

They were crushed. The lady said she was so busy and he’s been begging to come visit the ducks. She said she’s now “heard everything” that we aren’t allowed to feed the ducks.

I asked Mom to be careful with her wording. We “can” feed them — just as long as it’s not off the balcony. I said she should have told her that this place values homely residents with unruly dogs over cute little duckies.

The mom and little boy left disappointed. They aren’t the first. But for some reason I really liked them and wished all my neighbors were so wonderful.

I’ve not seen hide nor hair of the bitch who chased me around the lake. I am sure she’s here but maybe now that things have blown over, I’ll try to make an appearance outside again.

With the two cans of pepper spray I bought to fend off unruly neighbors and their dogs, of course.

Yesterday brought a miracle, my new nephew H.  

My friends have been trying to have a baby for years. There are no options, natural or scientific, that they did not explore. 

And yesterday at 10:05 a.m., the world got a little bigger and a whole lot cuter. 

Having a baby is the ultimate act of faith. You somehow trust the universe will take care of him, of you, of your family for the rest of your lives. 

My faith is not that big. I wish it were. All I have to do is look at the news and see the peaceful protest for the violent death of Corey Jones, see another local cop who shot a dog who was waiting in an open car for his owner to take him to the vet, see the girl raped on a cop car in mah ‘hood and he got off Scot-free, and see the funeral of a high school friend’s nephew … and it’s not a world i want to be in, let alone put any kind of faith into. 

But if anyone can handle raising a good child in a messed-up world, my friends can. And I’ll do everything I can to help because I believe in them. 

I wonder if the two girls upstairs were as wanted as H. I’d bet not. I imagine these two twits upstairs just did their jungle boogie after a fight and bam, shit out kids. Just what the world needs, for that demon spawn to perpetuate. Sigh. 

It’s a long shot to hope they will turn out well. But the universe has a funny way of giving me the finger. They may not act civilized at their next house. But eventually they will grow up and move out on their own. And one day, I won’t even remember that I ever knew them because I’ll be hanging by the pool with people I actually want to be around. 

And the act of faith it’s taking to think that way may be the biggest one I’ve achieved in years. 

I’m pretty sure the Thunder Bunch drugged the kids last night. No constant stomping, vase-rolling or glass-dropping that would rouse the dead. Win. 

I did hear them as I left the house today. But it was more annoying listening to residents’ unleashed dogs going after humans and their leashed dogs last night. 

Huge kerfuffle with “Amber” and her attractive asshole owner. Per usual. It’s a shame all the cute, single guys are either mean to their dogs or lax in taking care of them. 

When this “toodaloo Thundercunt” countdown ends, I plan to start a new, positive one. I don’t care to do NaNoWriMo anymore … all the cool writers and writers’ groups were up North. But I can manage a positive post a day for 30 days. Right?

Big Giant Pussy threw one piece of bread to the four ducks who waddled by in hopes that we could feed them. 

One duck got to eat. He didn’t share. 

I’ve decided I like Big Giant Pussy today, though. 

Three little kids were fishing in the pond today. Fruity Patootie let his big gay dog run loose up to the kids. It promptly took a shit that he didn’t clean up. Whatta guy.  

I hear a local family hired the lawyer for Trayvon Martin and Michael Brown’s families. I hope they turn this town upside-down. The cops are just as bad as the residents here. Maybe Corey Jones’ family will be able to get the justice no one else seems to be able to. 

Big Giant Pussy is blubbering and my nerves are frayed. 

But today will be a good day. That’s because my friend up north is in labor and I will soon have photos of her baby boy to greet me on my phone. 

I am also going to take advantage of a quiet day and try to meditate. My soul has been devoid of anything but fear and rage lately. Time to fix that. 

I have tickets to Jason Aldean this weekend. Am wondering whether to go enjoy the show or to sell the tickets at a premium to pay for a traffic ticket I didn’t deserve. 

With any luck, that will be the biggest decision I have to make today.