On: Every flavour newness and found whiskey.

Two weeks ago Nox and I broke up.

We’ve been spending lots of time together, asking hard questions and deciding to be friends. The odds are against us but we’ve always been odd. BFF’s 4eva!

I found a place. It’s wonderful! My room exists in the basement of a house. From the outside the house is average with a decorative garden. Upon entering I was struck by the spiral staircase, expensive antiques and other lavish doo-dadery; dark wood and white upholstered living room set, rugs, curtains and hardwood floors. The smell of the nouveau upper middle class. My landlord is an engineer.

Access to the basement is from the outside, I will be having minimal interactions with the upper level dwellers. The stairs are just less than vertical and made of unfinished wood. Water pipes are visible. The “living room” is a bulbous purgatorial hall that happens to occupy the space between the entrance and the kitchen. It is marked by plush chairs and a TV that hangs in a carved out hole in the wall. The living room is pink.

My room is surprisingly spacious, allows for some sunlight to enter and has, for no reason that I can discern, a brick fireplace.

I positively LOVE it. Everything about my new home is perfect, excepting the extremely irksome “no overnight visitors” rule. Fuck.Ing.LAME.

But to be a basement dweller again, to return to my CHUDley roots is a glorious feeling. To crouch in my hovel, eating my poor man’s beans and studying and creating with the rich literally standing over me; it’s perfect. And only a convenient seven minute walk from the school. Fifteen minutes in the opposite direction is a Buddhist meditation center. Huzzah.

Dad, on found whiskey at the bluffs:
“It’s probably piss.” *sniff sniff* “No! It’s whiskey!”
Mmmmmmm.