Po' me
I'm at a loss for words. I am pretty sure it has something to do with what's on the horizon. I tell myself--it's an investment, but even that gives me the heebly be'geeblies. It tastes like a medicine which is worse than the illness. It looms like a necessary surgery, an amputation of a gangrenous limb. I usually don't have much to write about other than me, and now I see myself facing a pitiable west coast state of spiritual inertia.
And what in the world do I now care for or have I ever cared for being in good standing with a neighborhood watch or Home Owner's Association? With each realtor listing sent my way, I feel a turn of the screw. Home ownership. A final resting place for me and my stuff.
And what in the world do I now care for or have I ever cared for being in good standing with a neighborhood watch or Home Owner's Association? With each realtor listing sent my way, I feel a turn of the screw. Home ownership. A final resting place for me and my stuff.
posted by 
3 Comments:
Isn't the horizon also in the opposite direction? Or does it have to be a distinct line to count as a horizon? I like the horizons with all sorts of mess obscuring the line.
At any rate, what an interesting moment - to catch yourself on the edge of possible inertia. Does it really have such a suction?
Booda--"Isn't the horizon also in the opposite direction?"
Well this one feels like the sunset horizon. But owning a home and actually living in said home are still worlds apart and many sunsets away--though not too,too many.
Eh. It's a phase. Perhaps I just need to change meds. Think I'll google Sacramento + marijuana license. That might cheer me up.
What about a rental in Humboldt?
Post a Comment
<< Home