i was just going along day to day in my studio with no hot water and windows falling out and the ceiling crumbling in the entryway. day to day in an untenable studio apartment through winter and summer just getting the dogs and crashing on the couch bed while the wind and time continued prying the windowpanes out. i admit i'm not there anymore, i'm done with that, and when i step in i step back. now the plastic patch i put weathered out and there's a hole where the wind comes in. at least it didn't smell like sewer gas. something must be done though and soon. the time is now, mister. the owner wants nothing to do with it, but has to do the windows—falling panes could cut someone's head off. and i have to clear the space and figure out what to save—my art! if i can save that stuff, and i'm not sure where or why, i could be shut of the place tomorrow. it was provisional, now it's dispossessed, people, including me, gotta move.