1:04 PM

The laundry mat is packed. I don't know why. Its full of people like me. All left over people. People who avoid Saturday Sunday Soccer Mom's and guys with one load of tube socks and too much Cologne. So here I am with my left over brothers and sisters and Grandmas and weird old men who stare at you.

Its depressing. I hate laundry.

Crammed into a corner with a paper back and an orange pop and I wake up. Here I am washing my clothes. They look shabby in the blanching light of florescent bulbs.

One old woman stands by a large spinning dryer. She must be a thousand years old. Her face is sunken and worn out. Her hair is wild and straggled. Actually it is strange Champagne color. But it is frizzy. She wears a winter parka and a house coat under it. Her dress rises up as if static electricity holds it up. She wears stockings that sag around her ankles.

Some man who must be in his late fifties drinks a coffee and stares at this girl trying to fold a bed sheet. He is dirty, and wears a white t-shirt and blue jeans. He could be a dirty old man and nothing more. Yet part of him lingers on the grace of her form as if he is stunned by her hands quick and effortless tuck and fold of the four corners of the top sheet, a soft pattern of roses on a field of pink background. This could be the last beautiful thing.

In the farthest dryer in the corner someone has left a coin slip out and get caught in the tumbler. Its flat toneless repetition is slowly chipping away my youth.

3:07 am

Now. How strange it is to stop and to think of one word. Have you done this? Repeated it again and again until it is worn. Its actually an excellent thing not to have anything to say.

Still...going out and sitting in a restaurant or in a coffee shop you can see people for what the are. I suppose you could feel sorry for them but you don't. They are shifted and ruthless in their habits. They are public. So fucking clicking on the sidewalks and think of the landfills the damn cell phones could fill.

My neighbors, for example are perfect. They just moved in. Two of them. This cute and perfect couple. Tall, thin, beautiful. She is like this white tower of flawless skin and a perfect smile. He looks like the jocks who used to beat the shit out of me. They are perfect looking. They look like they never get sick or get wrinkles. I think they are Nazis. Total Stepford married couple. I bet if you went inside their apartment you wouldn't find a bathroom.

The other night they came in with friends (two guys who looked like the Menendez brothers) and started parting at 3 in the morning. When I knocked on the door she answered. "I'm sorry," she said "I just moved in." She was so radiant that I thought of looking for like a switch behind her ear or a battery cover.

What does that mean? Is she saying she came from ghetto where they safety dance till 5 in the fucking morning? I asked them to keep it down after two. So far, so good.

This is a perfect example of people. The act like it is a dorm or a scene from the movie "Porkies". I repeat it over and over again. "Say that again?" You were born with out common sense like someone born without sweat glands? Are you stating you point of view. Are you staking you claim on this last piece of pie?

But life is radiant. I cannot disavow her beauty. I cannot ignore how many buddies this fool has. They are everywhere like bugs.

Oh, it would be better if I could sleep.