Thursday, September 10, 2009
Welcome To The Fish Bowl, Boozehound - or - How Did I Get All This Crap In Here
I'm taking a break from cleaning and rearranging my apartment. I've got books on my bed, on my night stand, on my windowsill, on top of the fridge, and stacked up next to my bookcase, which is already full of books, records, and photos by unsung heroes. I've got bass amps on my coffee table, cooking knives on my electric piano, a mountain of clothes on my sofa, five different schedules on my desk, four months of receipts in no particular order everywhere I look, garbage on the floor, plants on every inch of floor that reminds unclaimed by my cramped furniture, drift wood in the sink, seven fish in a soup pot in my bathtub, blown light bulbs in two different lamps, piles of nickles and dimes on every surface, a stack of unpaid bills on my pillow, an empty fish tank on my stove, and Tom Waits' Orphans blaring on my stereo. I'm wearing ripped jeans, work boots, my batman belt, and no shirt. I got my haircut today. She cut it too short. I asked how much she would charge to dye it blue. $80. I think I'll get another tattoo first. I'm going to drill some holes in my bed after I get rid of this heart burn. I'm sweating from everywhere. I bought a new fish today. I named him Boozehound, after his father.