Last night I went to the Southgate House in Newport to see The Black Angels: They were very psychedelic, the venue even moreso. The Southgate House has the feel of a house party upstairs but if you want to see shows you go down some stairs that lead to double doors that take you into a medium sized 3 tiered movie theater without theater seats. You would never expect this space to be here. It doesn’t seem to fit the allotted space of the framing. It was very smoky because you can smoke indoors in Newport, which isn’t Cincinnati but practically, and all the projections were conjured up on the spot on an overhead projector or else shown on an old-timey movie reel. It was as though my dream mansion was inhabited but with very mysterious muses. Some of the rock-a-billy types were the most alluring. I haven’t seen many of those in real life.
Today I woke up on the floor of my sister’s study feeling very cramped and hot. Her dog Kiwi was shuffling around and I could hear people moving about in the living room. I didn’t know what time it was but I knew it was late and that I was missing a very pretty day. It was at that moment of discomfort that I decided I’m not going to drink for the rest of the week. We’ll see how it goes after that but man, do I feel like a real slug today. I don’t want to be this person.
Today my sister’s ex-boyfriend is supposed to come over to collect his furniture. She’s been telling him to do it for months and he hasn’t done it so today she moved all of it outside. When she called to tell him he was pissed, so pissed that I fear for my rental that’s parked outside, especially because it looks a whole lot like her new boyfriend’s car. Last time this guy got mad he knocked the review mirror off my sister’s car, the times before that he punched holes in the walls of her house. I think there are 4 holes in her front passage way alone. I need to shower and get out of here before it’s too late.