Recently
I went to a show the other night and had an ok time. It was in a bar that was in a seedy motel that’s across from the jail. Since I moved to this city a year ago, I’ve been wanting to visit this bar. The hotel reminds me of the hotel the Blues Brothers lived in. You know, the one Carrie Fisher blew up with a remote control bomb? Plus it’s RIGHT across from the jail.
The bar sucked, which I guess shouldn’t be surprising. Very tacky and 70s, with carpeting and the drop-down ceiling you see most often in dentist’s offices. Incredibly shitty acoustics, which robbed the bands who played there of fire. Cheap beer, though.
I left when the deathcore started. It was all too sad for me.
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My sewer backed up. Boy, that was fun. I called my landlord and he was nowhere to be found. I left message after message, becoming increasingly hysterical and foul-mouthed. God, I hate getting the LEAVE A MESSAGE crap when I’m making an official call. One time, I was looking for a storage shed to rent and called about a half a dozen places. Every one was going to GET BACK TO ME if I’d only leave my name and number. All’s I left was “Screw you, it’s 10 am on Tuesday. You’re in business. Answer your damn phone.” I rented the first one who answered the phone. Price was not a consideration.
So there’s toilet paper and shit all over my walkway. It was a nightmare. 24 hours later, he sends me a text: “Sorry. Roto Rooter coming.”
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I am bored. Not just right now, but everywhere, all the time. I have a low-grade boredom that’s ruining everything. I don’t feel like drinking or reading or watching anything or writing or going anyway.
Malaise.
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My pumpkin is going apeshit.
When I planted my garden this Spring, I bought a tiny plant that i thought was another pepper, but turned out to be a pumpkin. !t was sitting on the wrong damn shelf at the greenhouse and was too young to tell by looking—for me anyway.
I got it home and was about to plant it when I discovered my (or the greenhouse’s) mistake. I was amused and planted it anyway, thinking, “Guess I’ll have pumpkin this year. Har.”
Holy shit, The leaves are the size of newspapers and the damn thing is growing like a weed. I’m trying to direct it away from the rest of my garden without killing it, but am not really successful. Overnight, it bends back to where it wants to be.
The damn thing’s a monster.
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I wish there was a haunted house or a graveyard near my house. Christ, I’m bored.
