The Fine Art of Falling Apart: Hot time

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This is what it could look like when one completely deconstructs a life as one knows it, and how to build from the ground up. Alternatively, this is a fresh look at an old story. The fine art of falling apart.

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I'm Gish. I guess this is what one can call the remnants of a pre-mid-life crisis. I listen to too much music and read too many books, and it all means nothing. Abrasive, I smoke too much, drink too much coffee and hardly sleep. Alive. Be sure to check out the new links to blogs, photos, music and other sorts of good stuff at the very bottom of the page.

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Hot time

Stamped: 8:55 PM

Hot time
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.

Definitely my idea of a hot time. Hot water, low light.

I liked my landlord before I moved in. But it seems like every time something breaks, it takes him forever to get back to me. And I'm not talking about a little crack in the wall that I'm complaining about either. First, I blew a fuse and I have no access to the lock box. And the fridge has decided to pack it in. A few days ago. I saved some stuff, but I kinda miss the fridge. Actually, I miss having ice.

Ice for my drinks.

So, I guess I miss the freezer, not the fridge.

My brother in law always asks me if I 'got a job' yet. I tell him sort of. I'm not worried, but for some reason I have been looking at job postings in Nunuvut. Can someone turn away an 80 thousand dollar job? I guess I'll find out.

I think I'll paint my eyes dark tonight, heavy egyptian eyeliner.

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