Good Thing My Goth License was Revoked Long Ago
While I'm excited to have an apartment of my own, I'm beginning to realize that it's sucking my soul dry.
I realized when I got my place that it would be temporary, and that's helped me to cope with the fact that my apartment is dark, dank, oppressive, cramped, and often smelling funky for no apparent reason. The neighbors are loud and the view out of my living room window is of filthy garbage cans. I oft get this feeling of being deep underground. You know that particular form of claustrophobia that comes with spelunking? That sense that there's countless tons of weight above you just waiting to come crashing down on you. I've been having awful nightmares lately and I think that's one of the reasons why.
And did I mention the strange and foul odors that waft through the place inexplicably?
Lately I've been really bugged by the fact that I keep finding reasons to never be home, which was irritating me because I've finally got a measure of my creative spark back but, because I'm never home, I'm not doing anything with it. And that's depressing the sh*t outta me.
Once upon a time I might have appreciated dungeon-like living quarters, but these days I'm in great need of spacious, sunny living quarters. And I think my daughter would enjoy coming over to her daddy's house more often if her room wasn't a cave.
I can't necessarily afford to move again for the next few months, I'm going to start "window shopping" (pun intended) in Berkeley or Oakland. Maybe I'll actually *feel* like staying home some days and... I dunno ...painting or working on my comic or actually not feeling like I'm in prison when I go home.
I have a feeling though that I will have to move before too long or I just might shank myself for a pack of smokes.
***
And, completely unrelated topic here... I know I don't say this enough publicly, but I really, really love my kid.
I realized when I got my place that it would be temporary, and that's helped me to cope with the fact that my apartment is dark, dank, oppressive, cramped, and often smelling funky for no apparent reason. The neighbors are loud and the view out of my living room window is of filthy garbage cans. I oft get this feeling of being deep underground. You know that particular form of claustrophobia that comes with spelunking? That sense that there's countless tons of weight above you just waiting to come crashing down on you. I've been having awful nightmares lately and I think that's one of the reasons why.
And did I mention the strange and foul odors that waft through the place inexplicably?
Lately I've been really bugged by the fact that I keep finding reasons to never be home, which was irritating me because I've finally got a measure of my creative spark back but, because I'm never home, I'm not doing anything with it. And that's depressing the sh*t outta me.
Once upon a time I might have appreciated dungeon-like living quarters, but these days I'm in great need of spacious, sunny living quarters. And I think my daughter would enjoy coming over to her daddy's house more often if her room wasn't a cave.
I can't necessarily afford to move again for the next few months, I'm going to start "window shopping" (pun intended) in Berkeley or Oakland. Maybe I'll actually *feel* like staying home some days and... I dunno ...painting or working on my comic or actually not feeling like I'm in prison when I go home.
I have a feeling though that I will have to move before too long or I just might shank myself for a pack of smokes.
***
And, completely unrelated topic here... I know I don't say this enough publicly, but I really, really love my kid.