Journal 2, Entry 8-Reportage "Carting Up a Body"

Yesterday, I carted up my bag of laundry from Dr Davidson's apartment. I was wobbly drunk so carrying a heavy bag filled with wet clothes through town was made more interesting with the fact that I couldn't see straight. I passed by Vincenzo and thought if I would ruin Jenna's chance with her beau barista by carting in a wet sack, setting it on the counter above the pastries and booze, and ordering a caffé correcto with sambuco like my asshole of a subconscious so desperately wanted me to do. I walked on down the avenue, near the darned alley and apartment complex where the costume museum resides. There were two teenage Italian boys walking in front of me. I saw that they were walking bow-legged and were making Anglo-Saxon grunts. It took me a couple of minutes to realize that they were doing an impersonation of my drunken bonobo waltz. I would have told them to eat shit and die, but I didn't know that much Italian so I just mumbled to myself and walked on towards the apartment.