for all of you who remember my house, some news.
i just learned that my house was finally and irrevocably bought from the sheriff by what we (my dad, mom, and i) guess is a prospective denizen on january 21st.
not only does this mean i will no longer have the joy of kicking in the door (i'm looking your way, greg murray) but it also means that my severance from howland now has a strict formality to it.
i kinda got up the nerve to write this after looking at some pictures i had from us there.
what i most regret now is the fact that i can't see these new people's faces as they walk through and see all the traces of not just mine, but OUR collective existence there.
-all the ashtrays
-beer bottles and cans
-the spray paint in the basement (i.e. RED SUN!!)
-one broke to shit couch
-no, no, two broke to shit couches
-the inexplicable stain on the ceiling by the fan
-spent glowsticks
-and, of course, a maimed front door.
you know what, fuck it. i already know what their faces will look like and i know damn well that the expletives coming out of their gaping mouths will be some variety of the derivatives of "what the fuck."
so, in closing,
R.I.P ed's house of sin and debauchery 8/28/04 - 1/21/06
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
of course, some pictures:
props to lorraine for many of these.
you're gonna carry that weight
not only does this mean i will no longer have the joy of kicking in the door (i'm looking your way, greg murray) but it also means that my severance from howland now has a strict formality to it.
i kinda got up the nerve to write this after looking at some pictures i had from us there.
what i most regret now is the fact that i can't see these new people's faces as they walk through and see all the traces of not just mine, but OUR collective existence there.
-all the ashtrays
-beer bottles and cans
-the spray paint in the basement (i.e. RED SUN!!)
-one broke to shit couch
-no, no, two broke to shit couches
-the inexplicable stain on the ceiling by the fan
-spent glowsticks
-and, of course, a maimed front door.
you know what, fuck it. i already know what their faces will look like and i know damn well that the expletives coming out of their gaping mouths will be some variety of the derivatives of "what the fuck."
so, in closing,
R.I.P ed's house of sin and debauchery 8/28/04 - 1/21/06
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
of course, some pictures:
props to lorraine for many of these.
you're gonna carry that weight