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2002-01-02 - 7:22 p.m.
Got back last night. Me and Nate, stumbling out to our gate at midnight, the cold wind blowing but our coats in our hands because we just wanted to get the hell in. Nate got the gate cause I had no keys, they being in limbo for at least a day, resting in the pocket of a bag somewhere, still bouncing through the foothills of Pennsylvania in the back of a friend�s rented car. The car pulled away, leaving with the blossoming young family that just escorted us two goofs the full 12 hours from Malvern, smiling all the way. Not quite On the Road but a grand time nonetheless.
We stumbled up the stairs and into the dark; most of the light bulbs had inexplicably gone out. I peered around with one good eye, my other contact lens gone since the day before and my glasses atop a sink in Queens. Not much to see anyway. A sink piled full of dishes, a broken refrigerator, a pile of papers on every chair.
Good to be home, good to be home.
I�d cook up some tea or noodles but I�ve got no milk. I can�t drive to the store cause the keys are gone. The Lazarus plant looks like it�s not gonna rise again. There�s a fine must spraying through a hole in my radiator, forming a puddle on my plastic shelves and dripping onto my bumblebee sweater. We noticed it just a minute ago.�Does my room feel like a jungle or what?� I asked Nate. His newly-shaved head glistened in the mist.
�Shit, that ain�t right,� he said.
When he turned to leave the room, the doorknob came off in his hand.
�Shit,� he said.
We're happy. It is good to be home.
