Clouded Full Moon

In my 18th hour today I answered a phone call from Super Tiny: the apartment building windows are being replaced on Wednesday, day after tomorrow: "Will you be there? If not, do the keys that I have for your door work? Can I use one, give one, to the man doing the work?"

I thought things couldn't be busier, when there's do much to get done, and I still have to work on the artistic paper I'm to present in Nis, Serbia, this coming weekend . . .

I went out for a beer. Went out to breathe. To get a little space distance from the impending chaos here. For a short while to possibly talk live in-person with another human. Have been sneezin' something blown in from the desert. Cloud covered full moon rising over the funeral home and things east. Was only Amanda there, working. Staff:customer ratio of 1:1 does not spell longevity, success, or anything like it. Think I finally convinced someone that frosted mactac on the glass would be better than good. Better than nothing on the bottom halves of the Laddies windows. Better than "live from Queen Street FredBoyzOnTap.com with urinal cam views from the street" (when Nicky's has the same exposure problem from part of the Tap's patio).

Now I have to tear apart every room in the apartment except the bathroom. I've stuff piled for the suitecase and so much art stuff and book stock evereywhere. Have to move some much of it. Have to move furniture—tables and the boxes underneath them, short book cases, dressers, the television beast and its accessories, bicycle, stools, drill press, stuff, et cetera—away from all the windows to somewhere . . . I don't have that much open space in this loaded spaceship. Have to remove the window shelves I'd installed years ago. Have to move all the hanging plants and cacti away from all the windows onto something—what? Have to remove the mini-blinds and curtains. All by Wednesday morning . . .

How am I going to finish the Poets' Corner paper or do anything else tomorrow but the live radio show (and getting the Hep vaccine needle injection @ noon)? Wednesday night I won't be being social, celebrating new books and mag birthdays with great poetry. I'll be trying to put my apartment puzzle back together before flying away on Thursday. Otherwise, it would still be looking hurricane damaged/destroyed upon my return.

On the good side, I heard that Doherty-led reggae will be at the Tap on Halloween night and on winter Wednesday's thereafter. I'll be back in Fredchicken for Halloween. I might have somewhere to go. Might want to go somewhere. Saw a great dragon/lizard head earlier today. Could I live, breathe, drink while inside it? Not likely, but . . .

Right now, I just want to sleep; not blog more, not finish eating the spaghetti in the dish in front of me; not watch tv. No book reading tonight (again).

shirt: green knit
loc: comm ctr
temp: 8 C
sound: Ujamaa Live at the Flamingo