3.9.07

how to become homeless [a step by step]

1. check out a shitty house in kirby.
2. meet the slum lord. act respectable.
3. smell the weird stench of people past, ask why the toilets dont work.
4. move in anyway.
5. during first week get as drunk as possible. as often as possible. [maybe the problems will be fixed soon you say, maybe the smell isnt SO bad.]
6. begin bartering process- as rent is too high for this.
7. wake up one day and find said slum lord in your house, digging in your stuff.
8. suprise him. scare him. yell at him. keep your money. sit in shock.
9. you are now evicted.

congratulations.

this is where im a little confused. say, if i was anything other than a decent person i wouldnt be so goddamned befuddled, but i dont kick puppies and i love old people. why the karmatic disruption? why am i now in my roomates sisters living room, tired and sore from moving. AGAIN. this isnt nearly as funny as before... when i was younger and i could see the humor. now its just leases, and uhauls. first impressions and the horrible threat of a second story apartment and me with a thousand pound cajon to lug. fucking. woo. i dont know, its not so bad being out. its not like im starving and i still manage to wake up shower and walk like a normal person. but fuck am i beat. its nothing like the usual lovely depression, its more of a disappointment thing i suppose. its like getting a huge vat of gatorade on my head, its all fucking hoots and nannys until the hour after in sticky and pissed off. [i wonder how the coaches do it] bad analogy. i am sorry. blarg. i was just so attached to the fleeting space i had. for a second there i almost forgot that there were no doors on the kitchen cabinet and no lock on the backdoor. [the shitty wiring, the broken ac, the toilet situation...... man FUCK that place] yea! what the hell am i crying about? goddamn .. wait ... godFUCKINGdamn that place blew. now all i really have to worry about is how bad charlie smells. and man does he smell. [hes a dog by the way, and hes right here. pretty boy. peanut butt]

sidebar: abe just gave me a dirty fork to eat with and i only noticed just now. thanks a fucking lot mister. thanks. a. fucking. lot.

anyway.

where was i in my ranting. oh right. FUCK. i hate moving. all i thought about today was the fact that all of my worldy possessions are scattered in four different parts of the city. several of those possessions i might add are living pretty furry things. [my chu chu. sadness.] urg. what the hell. oh god im eating a boli. the ice sticks. the blue ones. mmmmmm. anyway it also didnt help today that god shat on me and abe at the public storage. thumbs up mister. i dont even want to go into it. its just that i cant get the smell of burning mulch out of my nose and the sick feeling of drizzle from my skin. but your right abe, we had some serious outdoor couching going on. and yes. i said couching. plus finding my dads cigarettes was a weird yet pleasant surprise.

[here tom makes squirrel noises from sonias couch, heh]

alright. let me see. im alive. we still have a whole pack of smokes. and sonia is a wonderful hostess. im ok. hold on. yep boobs are still there, and i think i may have gotten rid of that rash........ um never mind. i kid i kid. but being decent doesnt take away from the looming responsibilites ahead. cant wait. fuck i wish i was 16 again. at least them my parents were obligated by LAW to take care of me, not just out of love or whatever. damn.

[here i wrote something about sitcoms and how much they piss me off. but i think the bitterness is thorough enough from above.]

lovely.

enough of this. i had a dream the other night. it wasnt surreal, it was shifting and strange. it was normal. it was lifelike... and in it i was 26 and joey was 25. and alive obviously. it was the best feeling in the world. like for 6 hours or so i had him back and i wasnt scarred and sick like i am now. i cooked for him, we walked together, i met his girlfriend. i saw the man he would have been if he hadnt gone. the hardest part of the whole thing was waking up. drunk still and a little disoriented. i walked to my bathroom and looked in the mirror wondering what had just happened. then promptly cried for two hours. it was the most painful waking up ive had since a little over a year ago. but at least i can still feel tendrils of the dream. when i think on it, i can still see it. like a little movie-memory that wont ever happen but wont need to. topsy turvy. yep.

thats all with me really.

oh there is this song thats been killing me lately. they play it at this club ive been gracing. heh. gracing. its a damn good song. i just dont know who its by or what its called and its annoying as abe in the morning.

[here i think of my name in retard speak]

blarg.

im through.

im out.

im sleepy.

and i need a fucking cigarette.

good blogging everyone.

yesssss.

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