I live in a basement. There are no windows. Occasionally, the lights go out due to poor wiring, and I am plunged into darkness. The only sounds are the scampering of rats that live in the crawlspace above the ceiling. Like the underground caverns of the Misty Mountains, this is a fertile location for rapid Gollumization. The transformation from pale skinny ghostman into slightly paler slightly skinnier ghostman was one that occurred with shocking speed, and once it’d taken place, I no longer walked but slunk, no longer ate but gobbled, no longer looked at things but stared ominously. I go whole days without ever seeing a ray of sunlight. It’s like living in a post-apocalyptic underground city like Zion or Ember. It’s like the movie Descent, only much longer and with wifi.
Dinners with Dad
- Dad: Ugh. This moron--from Sacramento; it's a Sac area code--keeps texting me. I told 'em they have the wrong number and to fuck off, but they keep doing it! I mean, look at this! It's not even English!
- Text: "You got thizzs? I need 10"
- Dad: Thizz-ehz. Thizz-eeez. ??
- Me, laughing: Dad, they think you're their drug dealer. Thizz is ecstasy.
- Dad: Well I'm telling them to fuck off.
- Me: You have to at least tell them it's the wrong number or they'll think their dealer is pissed at them for no reason!
- Dad: ...
- Dad: Fine.
Somehow the start of my typical Friday night has evolved (devolved?) into standing in front of a mirror with a Coors Light in one hand and a blow dryer in the other. Drying my hair, pounding a beer. I’ve managed to string together three Fridays in a row like this.
Although tonight finds me in a solar system-themed fleece onesie, UO sneaker slippers, and a blue tuxedo t-shirt (I was going for the classy pajama look).
I’ve always been a sort of self-imposed outsider, not a geeky outsider or a snobby outsider but I just have a natural desire to live on the fringe. I’m not like a weirdo with a trench-coat but I just prefer to be alone or minimally surrounded by people.