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[THE ROSEVEAR REPORT]: A real-time account of my day.

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Well, time travel maybe.

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[THE ROSEVEAR REPORT]: A real-time account of my day.

  1. 1. [The Rosevear Files: A Report] THE ROSEVEAR FILES A REPORT This is an account of my day. Topics include vomit, adult films, and real estate.
  2. 2. A I smelled vomit. Whose vomit, I wasn’t sure. It could have been mine, though I don’t recall getting sick anytime within the last 48 hours. Or was it the baby’s? Could it be? We just bathed her. Nevermind, there are more pressing matters at hand. It’s time to put the baby to sleep. Goodnight Moon. I read it, and read it again. And then again, in reverse. A pink castle in the corner of the room began screaming at me out of nowhere. These toys, they really do have minds of their own. At last my sweetheart was ready for bed and down she went.
  3. 3. B Back to the vomit. I’d tied a few on, but I think I’d know if I’d let a few go. The day began with house hunting. We’re headed for the burbs and today was day one on the prowl. It’s going to be an adventure, no doubt. I’ll spare you the details but suffice to say you can tell alot about a person by the shit they hang on their walls.
  4. 4. A Then it was time to pay a visit to my friend Fred. He had invited me to swing by his place for a film club, a few friends gathering to watch some arty movie and enjoy some bevvies. I’d never met Fred in person but we had a digital relationship that stretches back at least a year if not two. We’ve done business together, I’ll leave it at that. Showing up empty handed is just rude, so I grabbed a half bottle of Wild Turkey and set out on foot. Upon arriving at Tom’s and meeting his other guests, we all made nice with the chit chat and it was a lovely time. Fresh baked cookies were distributed, an hour or two passed, and the gang decided to head out for a bite to eat.
  5. 5. B I had to get back to the homestead so I declined, but I did hear two of the fellas discussing a DVD laying there on the counter entitled “Felicity”. Evidently it was an obscure adult film. Not like a tasteless one. From the looks of the cover (A 80’s style girl in pigtails suggestively eating a chocolate bar) it seemed like something that could be right up my alley. You know, in the Screwballs vein. I asked if I could borrow it. The one guy laughed, “Hell no, it’s my roommates. I think P.J. ripped a copy though.” P.J. said he’d email me a download. “Fun time with the wife, eh?” he said, or something like that. “You know it,” I said, or something like that.
  6. 6. A The chit chat continued until it was time to walk. We left, strolling along the streets of Jersey City on a fine day, a supremely fine day—truthfully the finest day this city has seen in months. We walked a ways and then it was time to part. “See ya,” we all shook hands one by one. “Drop me a line,” I said to P.J. as I walked away. “You mean email you a porno?” he yelled across the street in a sing-song voice, giving me the double thumbs up. That was pretty hilarious.
  7. 7. B On the walk home I decided to pop into the Silver Cricket, a little dive on Greene run by an older Chinese gentleman named Barry. I came in, took a seat. There were just a few others at the bar and there was this wonderful music playing on the speakers. I couldn’t place it. It had sort of an Eastern feel to it, but it was not overtly Asian. There were notes of the future and nods to the past. I had to know what it was, so naturally I Shazammed it. Nothing. This strange brew had even evaded Shazamm -- an incredible technology I’d seen breezily identify long-lost rocksteady tunes blaring from an SUV parked two East Village blocks away.
  8. 8. A I had to know. I asked Barry, “What’s this playing?” “This? This is Yanni.” Jesus. Yanni. This guy with his hair and his moustache. Wow. He’s actually really good, I never knew. I guess I never wanted to know. The Lakers were on, beating Oklahama 74-72. So we get into it, me and Barry. Start talking this and that.
  9. 9. B “How’s the year going,” I said. “Ah, it’s been tough. This weather,” he said. “No, I mean the New Year.” The Chinese New Year had recently passed and Barry had informed me that it was the year of the Wooden Horse. That meant rough waters ahead. “Ah, the Wooden Horse,” he said. “Well, two days to look out for. March 16th and July 1st.” “Oh yeah? Why?” “March 16th, there’s supposed to be a big war.” “Really.”
  10. 10. A “Yes. And July 1st, look out for U.S. currency. There are laws going to be passed, it has to do with reserve currency. We’ve been on reserve currency for 40, 50 years. Do you know about reserve currency?” “What, like we used to back our money with gold and now it’s just paper?” “Exactly. The back of a bill, it says in God we trust. In God we trust.” “Not gold, God,” I said, chuckling. I thought I was pretty clever.
  11. 11. B “Think about it,” Barry said. “That’s against the constitution.” I thought about it. “Right, right,” I said. “Church and state.” “Yeah. People don’t know what to believe. They’re bringing back prayer in some schools in Alabama or something.”
  12. 12. A I could smell the tooth decay from across the bar. Barry went on to tell me about his plans to knock the Cricket down and turn it into a 7-story apartment complex. Real estate, he said. The banks are crooks. Real estate was the only place to put your money, if you were lucky enough to have any. This seemed to make sense. I finished my Budweiser, bid him farewell, and hit the trail.
  13. 13. B Which brings me to the vomit. I’d been fine. Between the film club and the Silver Cricket, I’d felt perfectly ordinary. I got home and played with the dog a bit. She smelled like poopy, but not vomit. And yet, when I was rocking my dear sweet precious baby to sleep—the vomit stench, it was undeniable. I will continue to investigate this matter but for the time being please be aware of your own surroundings. Should you encounter any unidentifiable vomit in your area, do let me know. Together perhaps we can diagnose the origin of this foul stench once and for all. Signing off, Rosevear

Well, time travel maybe.

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