The last few days were not too cool. Especially the first 4 days of the week, but they’re better today.

I had my second fight with Andy since I got here. He told me that for 4 days at the end of January, his sister and nephew are gonna be here. I called and said on his machine that I was gonna try to find a place to stay. I don’t really feel like staying here and listening to a 4-year-old kid bounce off the walls whether I’m awake or not. That part was OK for me to say, but then I’ll admit my anxieties took me a little too far. I told him that if I went through 4 days of hell, I’d get him back for it. In my mind, getting back meant slamming my doors and banging shit all over. He called me, and naturally, he was all pissed and freaking out with paranoia and demanded his key back. He said, “Either get evicted or give me my key back.” I laughed, reminding him he can’t just run to the office, say he’s pissed at me, and demand I be evicted. The key thing was amusing too, as he’s known me long enough and he knows well enough to know I’d never fuck up his place. With the exception of Ellie who was never my best friend and who did a severely raunchy thing, I have to be seriously provoked to do something that drastic. Or one would have to swing at me first or go after my stuff. He knows this very well, but it was something to do and to try to piss me off, but I knew where he was coming from. So he said banging and slamming things wouldn’t accomplish anything, and he can’t help the way his nephew is.

So I figured OK, he’s right about that part, we all say stuff we shouldn’t or didn’t really mean, I went too far, let him call me when he’s ready. So the next day I finished editing the second and 100-minute tape of his. I left a message saying I was gonna leave his unfucked up tape outside his door and I did. I returned his key the previous day.

I figured he would never call for me to do his laundry. If he did, I’d have let him know how much of a nerve he’s got. If he can’t trust me in his apartment, how can he trust me with his laundry? He did do his own laundry, then the final straw and the last shit to hit the fan was the next day, which would be yesterday. I stayed up till noon, so I could sleep later. I needed to sleep until 8 PM at least. Sure enough, though, at 5 PM he was slamming the fuck away in his bathroom. That was it. I was ripped shitting pissed. My heart was beating so hard and so fast. I was so damn exhausted and I felt like total shit.

I left him a message as he’d not dare ever leave his ringer on. I told him I started the first little dispute, but this one he instigated. I don’t know what the fuck set him off, I said, but as long as he was to play this game, I’d play right along.

Kara came over and I was telling her all about it, then I slammed my doors for quite a while. After he’d gone to sleep, I was gonna slam my doors but figured he’d have a hard enough of a time sleeping cuz of the anxiety of wondering if I was gonna slam doors. I stopped the door slamming around 10:00 and figured that was maybe enough to scare the message into him.

I then called to leave another message. I told him I cannot physically handle the stress anymore and that I need to sleep. If he lays off of me, I’ll lay off of him.

So earlier (Christmas Eve) we spoke. I asked if he remembered our agreement, which was that neither of us would wake the other up if we got into a fight. He also told me slamming doors wouldn’t accomplish anything, so why does it accomplish anything for him? Especially after two days, you’d think the steam would be cooling off. I apologized for some things I said, but let him know that what he did wouldn’t cut it as I have a major sleeping disorder. I’m hyper and my meds make it worse. It accelerates my heart making me a light sleeper along with being scarred from the projects. I used to be able to function occasionally on a few hours of sleep, but I just can’t do that anymore without feeling shitty. I told him, though, that now knowing how the building is, I would always be a day person if I had my way. Thank fucking God the building’s not like the NHA.

Andy was telling me how everywhere I’ve gone, there’s been a problem. True, but that’s life. Every living place and job has its good and bad. Some more good, some more bad, some all good, some all bad. I’m also beginning to suspect that God may’ve put a curse on me as far as noise and shit neighbors go, beginning with the NHA. Nonetheless, it never was my fault that Woodside Terrace and Locust St. got so bad. It never was my fault Kim abandoned me. It never was my fault Tammy and I were told the NHA was quiet. It was never my fault the walls of the NHA were paper-thin and it was infested outside with 10,000 screaming kids.

I reminded him that there’s always a problem at each of his jobs. He had problems with the people up above him on Belmont Ave. in Springfield He had problems renting a room with some woman named Gail. He had problems with Donna and Diana and other people when he first got here. In his first apartment here the neighbors below him bitched about his nephew. And besides me, he’s had problems and complaints about this building. The people that used to live next to him and Rachel and Tony always slamming their doors. Whether or not all these problems were none, partially, or all his fault, this is just life.

So I said all I had to say and told him I didn’t feel like fighting with him or anyone else for that matter. He agreed and we dropped it.

Later...

At around 9 AM yesterday morning I went to get a package from Fingerhut I’d forgotten all about. It was full of Tupperware and it also had a key rack that I already got from them when I was in S. Dfld.

Andy came over at 8:30, an hour and a half after I got up, and I gave him the key rack and some Tupperware. Then at 9:30 Kara came over and I gave her some more Tupperware as I definitely don’t need all of it. She brought me some hangers. While she was here we filled out no-postage-necessary cards to Nervous, Fran, Bob and Bobbie. We also listened to tapes, ate popcorn, and she wrote a page to Fran. I can’t wait for the two of them to talk on the phone. Fran and Kara will love it and have a field day with each other.

I’m so glad to have met a friend other than Andy who’s so much like me. I can be myself and Kara loves the tapes of both the edits and convos. She knows all our major “lines” now and now she’s writing funny letters with me. You always think when you first move somewhere how you must start all over. Get a new group of friends. Friends who are honest and understanding and have that same weird sense of humor and let you be yourself. Of course, you still meet 10 jerks for every good person you meet.

Speaking of a jerk named Rosemarie, well pay back’s due. I figured I’d wait 5-6 months so as to appear less obvious and egg her car. On her way home, Kara dropped an egg on her windshield. Now, I’m sure to be punished for this, but then again I don’t know. It’s been a year now almost since I could sleep and get up when I say so and things go wrong even if I behave. And I’ve never been more behaved than I am now for a long time. No phone calls.

To change the subject now, I still have that fucking annoying and itchy discharge from downstairs. I give up as I’ve no idea what the fuck to do. It’s incurable.

I’m surprised I haven’t heard from Jessie or Cassandra, but not surprised I haven’t heard from Steve. No pictures yet from Nervous or from mom. I’m sure now, they both trashed them. Fran left a message earlier saying Happy Chanukah and that he is gonna be sending me a letter. Great! Fan-fucking-tastic! Just what I’ve been dying for. With all the letters I send him, it’s only fair. I figured sooner or later he’d get into it, too. Bob also left me his “liquid plumber cappuccino” message. Back when he’d threaten to kill himself with lye, I’d tell him he better make it a liquid plumber cappuccino.

I’m gonna leave a thank you note to Pete the mailman. Stacey refused packages in other names out of spite. Thanks to Pete he left a package two days ago by my door in Lisa S’s name. So, Stacey doesn’t realize that in a way she’s done me a favor. Some will be delivered right to my door.

The package was a porcelain doll, anyway. It’s pretty, even though it’s made up to be old-fashioned. It’s a girl in a light blue nightgown holding a teddy bear. There’s a matching bonnet on her head and she’s got green eyes with blond curly hair. Stevie hair, Andy said.