#168

theres a pile of gear in the living room all musical stuff an amplifier a speaker cabinet a stratocaster and a gibson acoustic and a bag full of cables and shit all of the items bunched together by the door because i was too lazy to put them in their proper places after the gig four days ago and the ceiling fan spins on its lowest speed breezing down on a squat square coffee table covered with mail and netflix dvds and an empty water bottle and tippss cologne and the sunken green couch sits there depressing and i am sitting at the cluttered dining room table which is covered with all sortsa shit like my canon a1 and an empty box of 400tx and an old but functional pair of fostex studio monitor headphones and a parking violation citation which i am due to contest in court shortly and another empty plastic water bottle and typewritten notes for a short film and a plane ticket for michael tipps los angeles to chicago and a piece of returned mail and a spray bottle of magic sizing and three foul candles that certainly wouldnt be here if i had my way and my computer playing some moody tune from elevator to the gallows and all this is happening and existing when she walks through my front door and tells me she doesnt love me anymore