chipped paint and one cold room.
Drinking straight from the jug isn’t as liberating as I thought it would be. I coughed. Half of it was held back to reserve what was left of my pride. But then the rest crumbled away after the second swig. RED cap snaps on, over the blocks of cheese. Closed is the refrigerator door.
Things are still scattered across the living room floor. Still out of place. Although, maybe they’re in their right place? The hot water [or lack there of] mystery was solved today. All it took was a simple flipping of the switch that said “HWT” in the breaker box. I guess that’s the universal abbreviation for hot water? WTF.
I cooked chicken tonight. I think the smell of a stale ghost apartment is finally going away. I need things on the walls. First I guess I need stabbing things to place those desired things on the walls. Tape could work for now.
I have a unique arrangement in the living room. A flowery grandma couch that I found on the side of the road seems to fit perfectly against the entry wall perpendicular to the door. It’s not that big, just small enough for two people to make the argument for sitting too close to each other. Then a pair of cheap leather chairs that would seem more appropriately placed in a Penthouse. Towards the back of the apartment, by the kitchen are my two, huge washer and dryer units. I’d much rather have them in the living room than to have to pay another 70 dollars for storage.
Things I don’t have.
Lighting in the living room.
A lid for the back of the guest toilet.
Butter.
Sweat Tea
Beer [but that’s more of a choice]
Sheets [where the hell did I put them]
A new book.
Internet.
TV.
Room mate [but I think I’ll survive].
Posters, pictures, flowers, plants.
Working Record Player. Sad story.
Extra money.
Bed time.
TONS OF FOOD.
B.O. problem.
This bed never seemed so unfamiliar. But I feel like everynight when I lay down, I’m being cradled in the arms of a clam. The pink fleshy dark mush collapsing and folding over my limbs as I drown and choke, reaching out for my last breathe before I shrug off another bad night of sleep. 3…. The average # of times I wake up in the middle of the night.
I’m allergic to Nickel. or however the correct spelling of that metal property is. Point being, I’m allergic to it and it makes my belly itch like crazy. So my stomach as been scrapped raw by my fingers edges because I lack the self-control to not itch the hell out it based on impulse. I wake in the middle of the night to a paper cut stinging, realizing while still half asleep what I am doing. I absolutely hate it.
Things are still scattered across the living room floor. Still out of place. Although, maybe they’re in their right place? The hot water [or lack there of] mystery was solved today. All it took was a simple flipping of the switch that said “HWT” in the breaker box. I guess that’s the universal abbreviation for hot water? WTF.
I cooked chicken tonight. I think the smell of a stale ghost apartment is finally going away. I need things on the walls. First I guess I need stabbing things to place those desired things on the walls. Tape could work for now.
I have a unique arrangement in the living room. A flowery grandma couch that I found on the side of the road seems to fit perfectly against the entry wall perpendicular to the door. It’s not that big, just small enough for two people to make the argument for sitting too close to each other. Then a pair of cheap leather chairs that would seem more appropriately placed in a Penthouse. Towards the back of the apartment, by the kitchen are my two, huge washer and dryer units. I’d much rather have them in the living room than to have to pay another 70 dollars for storage.
Things I don’t have.
Lighting in the living room.
A lid for the back of the guest toilet.
Butter.
Sweat Tea
Beer [but that’s more of a choice]
Sheets [where the hell did I put them]
A new book.
Internet.
TV.
Room mate [but I think I’ll survive].
Posters, pictures, flowers, plants.
Working Record Player. Sad story.
Extra money.
Bed time.
TONS OF FOOD.
B.O. problem.
This bed never seemed so unfamiliar. But I feel like everynight when I lay down, I’m being cradled in the arms of a clam. The pink fleshy dark mush collapsing and folding over my limbs as I drown and choke, reaching out for my last breathe before I shrug off another bad night of sleep. 3…. The average # of times I wake up in the middle of the night.
I’m allergic to Nickel. or however the correct spelling of that metal property is. Point being, I’m allergic to it and it makes my belly itch like crazy. So my stomach as been scrapped raw by my fingers edges because I lack the self-control to not itch the hell out it based on impulse. I wake in the middle of the night to a paper cut stinging, realizing while still half asleep what I am doing. I absolutely hate it.