Weekly Log - 13 through 19

Mon Apr 13

Crow. If you think a Friday the 13th is bad (and several tasteless sequels show that Friday the 13th IS really fuckin' bad), try adding the bitter taste of a Monday to the mix. It's hideous. It's like that bitter burn at the back of your tongue after you barfed out a few gallons of beer.

I had to raid all pockets I could remember having for change to buy bread and milk today. I found enough in 20 cent coins to get a pack of smokes, even. Alright, I took 2 euros from Kid Bro, but screw it, he's out nearly everyday. An old lady cut in front of me in the line to the register (which reached the back of the store, by the way), carrying several cans of beans and pork. For some reason, I imagined her carrying one in her purse at all times. Emergency meal, improvised weapon and lifesaving bribe if she's ever chased by dogs or hobos. I'm losing my mind. I didn't bother too much: by the time we reached the register, I cut in front of her again. She was upset, but the grocery store guy didn't care and neither did I.

One of the elevators in the building is busted, the other had several sheets of newspaper on the floor. Somewhere in this building there's an over-enthusiastic or incontinent dog. Maybe both. So I took the stairs, and that's how I found out that the horde of roaches that sometimes plagues this building is back. Give 'em a little rain, they all pop out, and it's been raining a lot lately.

Got my usual dose of the "we have no money and it blows chunks" speech as soon as I got home. While there are a few pointers I'd like to give for this one, but what's the use? That's a battle I've been fighting for several months now, I tire. Quoting Luse, this is complete and utter bullshit.

The 'net died for some hours in the afternoon, I didn't bother to call support. It came back later, so I could do the regular job ad round-up. It's amazing what they ask people for to work at a counter these days. You don't have to know how to operate a cash register, but you need to be able to wear store merchandise. So they want living dummies to model their clothes, shoes, accessories, the works, and still make sales. Even the most unknown, corner store I found wants someone who will model for them along with helping customers decide between the acid washed jeans and the stone washed ones (I don't know the difference, do you?). According to the UK chart I'm wearing a size somewhere between 20 and 22 for trousers, 42 to 44 for sweaters and size 7 shoes. Good fuckin' luck trying to find a store that sells something along these.

"On Monday mornings I am dedicated to the proposition that all men are created jerks." ~ H. Allen Smith, American writer.

Tue Apr 14

Got up, Mum wanted money, so I went down to the ATM to see how my account is. Apparently, my account is dead. Came back, she blamed Pops and asked if someone had called me about a job. Felt like answering that yes, they did, but I didn't say anything because it was the Interpol and they want absolute discretion.

Depressed. It does wonders for my writing speed, apparently, but not so much for my mood. I am actually early on the writing quota.

Wed Apr 15

From this day on my Mum's on vacations. So this is the perfect chance for us to be on each other's hair more often.

I wanna know who the deaf motherfucker living somewhere on the right side of the building is. I woke up with some of the worst music known to Man and Beast banging at my window. I don't mind lousy music when I have my headphones on, Hell, demolish the whole bloody building with kizomba for all I care. But music that bad and at my window when I'm asleep? It brings my piss to a boil. I wanna know who he is and where he lives, so I can leave a bag of cat shit on fire at his doorstep and dispose of my trash in his mailbox. Even when my old Sony speakers were working, and those could make the 7th floor windows shake on full force, I never forced another human creature to listen to my shit, why is it this one has the need to broadcast his? There's a pair of decent headphones on the corner chinese store at 2 euros, jackoff, go buy them and let me sleep!

Thu Apr 16

I don't really know what to write, so here's an excerpt from the Book of Murphy. This'd be quoted as Book of Boredom 03:03, translated into English for blogging purposes. This is where we refute popular wisdom concerning Murphy and bad luck.

'3 "He who is lucky at gambling is unlucky in love" was some of the greatest bullshit the Desolate had ever heard. Because many of them didn't even want to look at lottery tickets, and even if they had wanted to look at lovers, there were none. 4 "Lightning never strikes twice" was also complete bogus. Let us meditate in the case of the man who got saved from the World Trade Center attack, only to get an airplane smashing on his face in Queens. 5 "Bad things come in threes" was well known to the Desolate: bad things come in threes, fours, fives, twelves, forty-sevens...'

Fri Apr 17

I'm glad this week's over. What a steaming pile of shit. Depressing, annoying, irritating, the whole nine bloody yards. I spent my day pulling qualities I don't have on paper in hopes of getting better chances at a job and planning future campaigns. If I didn't have friends and D&D, I'd have tossed myself out the window already.

Then again, that'd probably only break my legs, seeing as I live on the second floor and all... there goes my suicide plan. Speaking of suicide, I'm curious about reading this book, Kanzen Jisatsu Manyuaru by Wataru Tsurumi. It seems it's a pretty controversial book that apparently provides specific instructions for killing yourself in a variety of ways. It wasn't censored to death (HA!) in Japan because apparently they only censor explicit depiction of sexual organs there. Japan's awesome or creepy, pick one. Unfortunately, it seems the book doesn't cover "Death by Aggressive Haunting", eventhough their horror cinema shows us everything is haunted in that part of the world, so there goes my hopes and dreams again.

And since I'm on the subject of death, dying and all that cute emo shit, I'll leave here that you guys know what to do when I go. I want a bottle of tequilla, a deck of cards and a pack of smokes inside that casket when my time comes, in case I wake up six feet under and care to have some fun while I'm there. Don't forget the lighter.

Weekend Apr 18 - 19

Refugee weekend. No place to go, no money to go anyway. Amongst my goodies for the weekend are Frank Miller's Sin City comics, the first two seasons of the series Masters of Horror and a shitload of D&D books I was missing. Guide to Hell will be particularly useful in the future.