October 9, 198X, 4:30 am
cold, cold, raining hard
Kitty crawling over and over me chasing the pen claws/paws can't catch on the paper and off she slides. She's not so clinging as two weeks ago- she was a sleeping little ball on my neck - now she runs all over me and sticks her tongue in my nose. She's learned to wash herself - prob. from visiting Alpha and GG and having Katze spend the night. But other than that she's a queer little orphan in a big room.
But it's not really big at all for me - actually it's a fine room to come home to all wet wool and cold. I'm glad I straightened it up before I left (in the afternoon past) since it's all I've got. I miss not having a house that I started (created? Sort of).
Part of me wants to give myself up to the care of some old and trusted friend - so I can bitch about the last few hours w/o argument. But it's nothing, really. So I feel exploited. So's everyone. But I hate feeling humiliated or being afraid always of humiliation or attack or unfair brutalization.
I hate being so grim during that last hour of work - let's get out of here, feeling stupid for having laughed an hour ago, burning at the thought of cavorting a little before the bad part. Don't ever take grill work seriously.
It was a scream, though, to be tripping (due to the midnight rush after a couple hours of nothing and the 1/4 to stay alert) (dumb huh) but the sight of Bob Russo chomping his burger was almost too much. All white - when I tried to clean the white walls they flickered and I couldn't tell if they were clean or not. My dress floating from the ceiling fan breeze. But I was intimidated by Rick - bad. But I think I won because I woulnd't allow myself to respond in any way - I just told him not to talk to me while I was working - now is that self-assertiveness or is that just being just like all the snotheads/wussy faces that take their job too seriously?
Coming out into the rain was lovely - the streets were mine and everything glistened and streamed - but always in the back the worry - what if someone follows me, what if a cop stops me - always that little song going - don't talk to me, leave me alone, keep driving.
I'll sleep a few hours, go to yard sales as long as seems enjoyable, bake, sleep sometime, and of course back to La Grille.
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