Walking the dog over to the Shell station on Valencia and 20th, I saw the cops arresting a couple of local kids. One detective was walking from car to car with a flashlight, peering in. I wonder if those are the guys who are breaking all the car windows around here.(?) Anyway, it's strange what you see out at night. Around here it's a whole other world. Mostly folks up to no good. Nevertheless, it's quiet at this time of night, and I enjoy that. No car alarms, honking, booming radios or screaming kids.
Geez, I really sound like a cranky old man.
I was up on the roof again this afternoon shooting the odd pigeon with my trusty Gamo "Cadet", Spanish made pellet gun. That has pretty much become my favorite place to be. No one bothers to look up and see who's walking around on the roof with a rifle and a garbage bag. I like to just hunker down, with my sunglasses pushed up on my forehead, and wait for one of those silly birds to settle in on the roof, and then it's safety off, line up the sights on his neck, and POP... feathers. I'm not 100% sure about the morality of it. People I mention it to seem split 50-50. I personally just want the damn things gone - and yeah, okay I like the hunting aspect of it.
The beautiful Japanese girl from next door walked by while I was up there. i actually yelled down to her, sort of like - EH! EH! She didn't look up, probably thinking I was some obnoxious creep roofer guy, which is actually better than the tructh of the situation - unless she's into squab. I'm thinking about leaving a bouquet of flowers on the door, with a note... I see no other way to break the ice here.
I started skim-coating my dad's apartment tonight. Painting his place will be kind of fun, if only to see it rise from its present state of 70s, ghetto dilapidation. I'm obsessed with the hacked in wall that divides the room from its origianl size and shape. I really wish i could pull it down and recycle all the woodwork and the two pocket doors. The room would be truly grand that way: Easily 20' across, with the fireplace centered. Imagine if I remodelled his livingroom while he was in canada. My dad would pretty much kill me, but I know he'd secretly dig the big room.
I think the dog still has fleas. Goddammit.


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