Christine's Old Stomping Grounds Revisited Part II � � � Wednesday, Apr. 02, 2003 * 19:38

So, I slowed down to a respectable speed and drove the rest of the way in the right lane, crying like a little schoolgirl and laughing at the same time.

Here ends the wacky part of the trip and begins the sad part. I managed to safely deliver myself unto exit 7b from 795, and i drove 5 mph around it because that's where Justin flipped his car going 20 miles an hour. In much the same kind of weather I was now driving in. Fog, and misty rain. So it took me about 12 minutes to go around the exit but then, I wasn't interested in being upside down hanging from a seat belt. I got on Nicodemus, only to realize that Nicodemus was slowly being swirled into a black vortex of fog. Once I had passed the quarry, there was nothing to be seen. The headlights disappeared into a void about 2 inches ahead of the front bumper. I was reacting to this with amusement when I found myself driving in the grass. I righted the car, or I think I did, when I noticed Beau Mondes court on my left seeped in fog so thick that Beau Mondes court was only about 1% opaque and I imagined vampires and hobgoblins frollicking around Jessica Groszkowski's house. I had always kind of imagined that going on at her house though, because that street is just plain weird. It has been a major issue in my life trying to pronounce "Beau Mondes court" because when I was little, I never understood what the words "beau mondes" could possibly mean, so I would always think "byoomunds" to myself. When I learned to speak fran�ais, I understood that it's pronounced "bo monds" but how can I be sure that it isn't one of those things like "noter daime"? Maybe its residents pronounce it "boo mondez" and I'll just never know. Either way, I'm fucked.

I can't believe how long I've been going on about Beau Mondes court.

Anyway, you get the idea. The fog was incredible, blah blah blah. I decided I'd had enough of Jimi Hendrix so I turned that off. I was unpleasantly surprised when I suddenly came upon Berryman's Lane, my only alert in the soupy atmosphere being the sudden presence of a truck's headlights coming right at me. I was quite incensed. I had a little trouble finding Beverly too, but I made it. I was glad to see that Miss Shirley is apparently still alive, as are Miranda and her no - good brother, and that awful "tree" in what is formerly Harry's yard is now approximately 12 feet tall and reaching gnarled branch-like appendages towards the road. All of Tony's lights were on, and Bud has a new truck. Miss Evelyn was not visible, but I know she was in the house. Watching me. That woman is the living end. She can find something juicy to gossip about in everything. Once she told me all about some guy who had dusty shoes. She talked about it for FOUR FUCKING HOURS. Jesus. It was like it was the most exciting thing in the world. She also used to come around to our house to collect "cash for flowers" whenever someone in her family or even someone she didn't know died. One time she tried to collect money for flowers when her niece's best friend's mother died. I'm not kidding.

Anyway, I pulled up to good old 608 and all was quiet and dark. There was rubbish in the front lawn, and a curious sign in the window, but I saw my dad's little american flag sticker on the handrail to the steps. That was reassuring. Some hyacinths were blooming. That was nice. The little gnome, deer, and shell were gone from under the tree. That was sad. I came up to the door and ducked under an out of control vine to read the sign. I don't remember the exact wording because I became touched upon reading it, but here's the gist:

WARNING

PROPERTY OF THE U.S. GOVERNMENT

VIA THE DEPARTMENT OF VETERANS AFFAIRS

NO TRESPASSING

VIOLATORS WILL BE PROSECUTED TO THE FULLEST EXTENT OF THE LAW

Contact the VA at . .. . . .

I was crushed. I knew that the house had been taken away and all. I knew that it was repossessed. But this was the first time I had ever seen our house, where my one-time family lived for over 8 years, not ours. And that was the longest time we had ever lived together under one roof. It had been our first house. It was where I saw Justin for the first time. It was where Sunny romped and played from a puppy into old age. It was where Taffy spent her last days. It was where I spent my nights as a lonely angry teenager, raging and often in love with unattainable men, writing the worst poetry I've ever composed. It was where my mother almost died. It was where my father drank himself into oblivion so many times that he almost died. So much happened there, so much pain, so much happiness, so much filth and sadness and misery, and so much life for our little hapless unit. And now it's the property of the U.S. government.

Well, I started crying of course. I wormed my way behind the dying bushes and peered in the window. Inside were a bunch of work benches, the floor was torn up and there were paint buckets everywhere. All the windows were stripped on the outside to make room for new insulation. Everything of ours was long gone. I walked around to the backyard. More rubbish and planks and rusty work tools. I suppose my dad left the house in a really bad way. I was looking for something besides flowers to remind me of our lives there. I peeked into the backyard and found it. Hanging from the big maple tree was my dad's suet feeder. This satisfied me and I left in a hurry. That was depressing, I thought. I drove away, noticing that one of the neighbors had procured a Dodge Viper. Who the hell lives on Beverly Road and owns a Viper?

I've tired of writing this now. After visiting with R O CK SS and Tynmad and Michael Maderikov I drove up Reisterstown road and had many adventures. Mainly becuse I was falling asleep. I finally got on 695, then route 1. I was really losing hold of reality so I stopped at Denny's and got ogled by umpteen truck drivers, one of whom maintained that he was 5/8 Dutch ("my grandmother would be rolling in her grave if she heard me say Dutch - I'm Nederlander!") I had a nice breakfast as it was now 3am of french toast sausage and bacon and syrup and the next day I threw it all up. I finally got home and passed out on the couch. The end.