I’m Ur Dog

When we moved in our slumlord, RaeRae, told us: “No smoking indoors” we were like: “We will train our puppy not to smoke inside.” What is ironic is that our puppy (beloved house mate and 1/2 of goth band Rihanna) peed on the floor the other night. He was sleepwalking.

Goth Rihanna 4 6 3

(age old Rihanna pics)

Beloved house mate and I share the fact that we have missing teeth and that we are pisces. We both get profoundly bummed after performing music. We both like to drink.

After opening for Them are Us Too and Drab Majesty I became profoundly bummed. I got a fever. It was new moon. I stopped drinking for the next lunar cycle.

I stayed home from work and read the Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up. I am a minimalist, but never have I felt liberated to be this much of a minimalist.

Next I went to my mom’s to sort through what was left of my childhood: heritage stuffed animals that had been my mom’s (a monkey named Turd, a special needs tiger, a dog called Bruno) to give to baby cousin Nikola. Bahti and crouton continue their powerful ju-ju in a drawer – outliving me? It is me in them… whatever.

Our closet of entry-level irony went back to the source (Goodwill) for the next generation of “Dress Your Worst” parties. The last step came in the form of the neatly packed boxes: middle school, high school, college, and endless love letters with the dead.

Now that I have touched every object and decided where the items I’ve kept belong, I know everything that I have and I know where all of it is. I have also been deep cleaning all-the-things, no dust on plant leaves, no blood on countertops, no pee on the floor.

Except of course, near the point of completion there was a t33n party where everyone got white-kid-wasted on 4 Loko and knocked over a speaker, a plant, and bowl of ramen.


Laura Letinsky reference left by unnamed high-school guest)

When living with others, the only truly clear interior space one can have is one’s own mind.

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