2003-09-07 - 4:17 p.m.

I'm at my parent's place, staying out of the way while they and my little brother and his girlfriend cook. I'm probably the least "kitchen-able" one in my family. Which is fine, someone has to come in last, after all, and I don't think the dog counts.

This is not to say, of course, that I can't cook or that I am kitchen deficient, rather, I'd rather stay the fuck out of their way while they go about their business. Besides, onions are being used, and my eyes are really sensitive.

Last Saturday I moved in with Dave. Most of you know Dave, so you should be able to anticipate what he is like as a roommate. One thing that really surprised me though, is how obvious it is that it is me that is moving into his place. Dave has been on Tatman Street for 9 yrs, and he has accumulated a huge amount of stuff. Dave stuff. The apartment is swimming in Dave-ness, and I have managed to hollow out a little, somewhat Spartan, section for Jesse.

The apartment also has an aura of ex-Craiginess. Craig left his computer, computer desk, and bed behind and in the hands of Dave when he moved out. So I know have a giant computer desk that I have to roll away to get onto my porch. Woo-wee. Dave promises to do something with it, just as he promises to clear out the living room/guest bedroom of ancillary crap, but it hasn't been done yet. Not that I expected the hallway to be clear and the room to be cleaned out in one week; I just sort of laugh when Dave says he wants to go to the flea market and sell this that and the other thing. He's had, what? six weeks of being alone to take care of all this. Sure, if he wants to do it on my part, that's fine, but he comes out like he's been meaning to do it forever. I'm sure he has been meaning to do it forever, and that my presence is a little push in the right direction.

You know what Dave is like.

And you know what Dave is like when he is talking philosophy, politics and social issues, all of which kind of blend into the same thing for him. One thing you may not know about Dave is that when he puffs on the ole' wacky tobaccy, he gets, well not really rapid per se, but very talkative. This is in stark contrast w/ most people's reaction to this substance, as I am sure the gentle reader is aware.

Speaking of ex-Craiginess, I am sleeping on the bed Craig left, which was a hell of a lot easier than breaking down two queen sized beds, carrying one down 3 stories and another up three. (Kae, I think the stairwell in this house would have let us avoid using clothesline to drag the box spring up, all the same, I am glad I did not have to find out.) It turns out that the bed I am sleeping on is Dave's ex-roommate's ex-girlfriend's ex-bed. I am sleeping on Corrina's mattress. This has, of course, led to all sorts of insider jokes and coincidences, all of which are far too funny to share with you here, least your delight overflow and your gut split, explode, and send entrails all over the computer screen. See? I only have your best interests at heart. Aren't I kind? Trust the Jesse.

The only real point of annoyance (not contention) w/ Dave and myself is the fact that it took him six days to get me a copy of the keys. This was very annoying and stressful for both of us, but has been resolved.

Gotta run, food is on the table.

-Jesse