Man oh man.
My feet are all blistery and I’ve been swimming in my sweat since nine this morning.
I’ve been pushing cart-loads of books uphill outside for the last two days. The heat index is 115, and the actual temperature is 100. Man oh man. The only thing that keeps me going is the ten bucks an hour- I even made up a little song. “Buck every six minutes, buck every six minutes, buck every six minutes, soon I’m fucking rich.” Even though I’ll still be poor. A buck every six minutes sure feels like a lot.
So my pop, in his searches through his wife’s dad’s old house, unearthed some ancient comics. Apart from smelling like mildew in a major way, they’re full of kitsch value.
Superman comics in the fifties and sixties were so damn wacky. I love ’em.
Gosh, Superman, I didn’t think about that.
Okay. Here’s my new thing I’m telling myself. Every day I’ll either write at least a page of my own stuff or transcribe at least a page of my grandfather’s stuff. THIS I DO SWEAR! ngah ngah ngah ngah…