oh, water, oh. i forgot how delightful a hot shower could be. my place is dirt cheap, truly cheaper than dirt as land is too rich for me. i'm in a cheap cheap place though, so cheap the windowpanes are falling and the hot water won't rise. i always thought well at least i got a place, it's just for today, and have another beer and the light is good. it does seem to have a life of its own, it seems to be a dirt generator beyond my ken. it seems to be thinking like  ghosts, he won't last, we'll have the place back to ourselves, and then, what is he still doing here? but that's probably my imagination, though the mice i'm convinced were not, the dirt is my responsibility. ghosts might move on when they tire of the living, but dirt tends to stay until like the dead it's carted away. anywho it's saturday and i had the initiative to bring fresh socks and briefs and even a hair brush to b. and mister's and had a glory shower and a burrito. i got so much time between walks, maybe too much, but better too much than none i say. 
i got my book of ingeborg bachman and might even settle on the orange couch and read. i'm soul tired. in my dream i heard a cat crying, and i woke up and heard a cat crying in the alley. it was cold inside, before six, and i groaned, do i hafta rescue a cat from the vortex? then the crying stopped, mercy. and it was mild outside! the vortex never came.