What One Girl Knows

Reading In Cold Blood and waiting for Jason to come back from the barber's shop. Will he have chopped off all his hair, like he said he would? Before he left he looked like he belonged in the world of CHIPS. Puffy, puffy hair. It's been a trip for haircuts -- I don't know if I mentioned it before, but I got all my hair chopped off in Kentucky. There's an inch left all around. If I'm not careful it poufs up too, and I look very much like my mother. Luckily there's enough hair gel in the world to keep that from happening.

Had dinner with Irv last night at the local Pizza Hut. There were half a dozen state troopers at the table next to us, eating enormous amounts of pizza (well, shoveling is a better term for it than eating) and clutching two liters of Pepsi. It was kinda obscene. Irv kept on threatening to say "fuck the police" and made numerous winks in their direction, accompanied by sopranoish renditions of church songs. He is one obscene minister.

When Jason gets back, we're to go to Niagara Falls -- the Canadian side. Then to Buffalo for used bookstores and Aaron's gig at a local bar. But right now it's me and the bear dog, and Jason's mom sleeping.

Anxiety about the new place. We were so deliriously happy that our credit checks came out all right, we forgot to ask for a receipt. We called yesterday, but so far no one's called us back. Supposedly our lease is being sent to us in Astoria. I'm usually so cautious about everything -- how could this have slipped my mind? Have we been tricked? I keep on having morbid fantasies about the realtor office turning out to be a scam, and us having no apartment to go to in August. All our things in storage, living on our mothers' couches, despair despair.

Also more general anxiety about moving. What doesn't the houses and apartments in Pittsburgh have bars on their windows? I'm starting to think that all residences should bar their windows. And where, where, where are all the people? The streets are virtually deserted. Even that crazy baseball hoopla produced only piddling amounts of tourists on the streets downtown. Nina keeps telling us that Pittsburgh isn't New York, and it's crazy to compare the two, but I find myself doing that, constantly.