This is a celebration.
I'm number 8 on the list for housing in the city. I'm scared to talk about it. I feels like when my dad finally got me some skate shoes. I wore those fuckers to bed because I thought they would be gone in the morning. Like dream tactics would keep them on my feets. You would be alive again in if I'm holding you tighter in my sleep but reversed.
I'm crazy fucking nervous. I wonder if all my neighbors will be seniors that no one visits? If so I'm going to be so made. Old people fucking love me.
I play cards. I play Spanish style dominos like a King.
Everyone loves being proven wrong about the first impression view.
Look at that kook! Wait he holds doors and shit? What's going on here this pinko is helping my wife with the groceries!?! Let me pause the Tucker Carlson for a second and investigate this further...
I'm going to turn my place into a gallery. Do huge frickin pieces that don't fit out the doors.
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!