Hey there, Auntie Warhol Reader readers. It’s me, Auntie.
I’m not sure if the editors of this journal are aware or approve, but I’ve always got the root password, so to speak. And while I can’t give away which of your preferred flavors of i-droid does it*, yes, you will one day be able to ssh across time itself from the same little device you hold in your pocket and use to take pictures of cats.
Any-hoo as I’m writing this it’s nineteen twenty-something, and I’m helping some friends of mine from the Union at Radnor Yards build us all a house down here near the tracks. Everyone’s calling it “Auntie’s House” because I get the bedroom, and I throw the parties. But of course a man’s name is on the deed, and the place will be his once I move on. Don’t worry, I’m making him earn it :)
I can’t tell you exactly which year it is. The Nashville courthouse will probably have records, but it doesn’t have them when I am, so you’ll have to look those up yourself. As for me, I’ve been getting the good herb from the boys up in the Bottom (you’ll one day call it Napier, I think) and I’ve decided to rebel against the Julian calendar for a while. Just because.
Well, what I wanted to talk about is that I think some of you may know that Jennifer’s been fixing up a house for herself. I won’t lie, it’s been hard on her. “Some barbies have to build their own dreamhouse”, I told her once. She got it, and was happy again. But she’s had to fall back on the testosterone she was given to get through this. When a woman’s feminine grace is natural, she can swing a hammer like an ass kicking lady, but when you were taught your whole life to do it in keeping with how your muscles are shaped, it’s just inefficient not to do so.
Plus it’s just a nightmare keeping one’s nails nice though something this.
But in case you’re slow on the uptake, the house she’s fixing up is mine, it’s the same house we’re working on right now back in the twenties, but she doesn’t really know it. I mean she thinks it is, but I’ve refused to confirm that for her. Frankly it’s driving her nuts, and I’m laughing my ass off.
Right now the guys are putting up the interior walls. We can’t afford plaster, we’re just going with straight up tongue and groove wood planks. And sometime right around the 2013-now(), Jennifer’s pulling down those very boards to make way for insulation. And I have GOT to leave her some easter eggs.
Any suggestions, dear Readers?
* It was no one you’d think, actually. An Apple offshoot who makes a thermostat called the Nest will come up with it, as a way to go back and adjust the thermostat in the past once it’s known what the outside temperature will have been. They made apps that work on all your devices. My girl Jennifer told me all this, I think she did some work on the Android app, or will have done some a few years from your now();