05-27-02 - 5:40 p.m.
patrick called me from his empty house; he and g will move there once his thomas kinkade barn in the eucalyptus grove is sold. g is of the june cleaver school of decorating; each room is a different color. i could barely contain my horror when he showed me paint samples; the living room is vomit hospital green.
trust me, he said, when she's finished, you won't be able to see the walls.
(picture a thousand raggedy anns of various sizes. envision a plethora of arks. the kind noah built, fashioned in country kitsch. now arrange them, artfully, on the vomit hospital green walls, and add a sprinkling of beautiful antique clocks, lovingly refurbished, ticking, chiming. this gives new meaning to patrick's motto; take the easy path.)
this morning, he was tearing apart the attic to create a workroom for his clock repair. the idea of his own space pleased and mellowed him; his voice made my insides melt.
sometimes, he told me, just the sound of your voice gives me a hard-on.