It feels like I used to live here. When it was different. And the same. Things look a little fancier though, a little more forgettable. Who remembers a wrap? But then I forget quite a few things. Like that I was still banned at a couple of the bars. The only thing refreshed was my memory. A bit dry going down. Some haunts still spooky, some had given up the ghost - vanished into the mists of time and beer. And speaking of which, it's still cheaper. The beer, I mean.
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Dreck of the Week
(Kling klang dreck to engorge.)
Would a muffin with a pair of antlers coming out of it be more to your liking? I mean, good lord - is there any pleasing you?
Apartment Life
Wafting through the halls, the stink of the landlord's perpetually simmering cabbage and dirty sock stew. Upstairs the flamenco dancers are going into their routine, accented with the reverberating beat of something being chopped on the cutting board. Like the landlord, they never go out.
Sidelong glances in the laundry room, shy hellos at the mailboxes. The seldom seen whistling bachelor dressed all in beige, like hand-me-downs from a dead grandfather. Even the mustache looks second hand. Unlike the bachelor, the young girl in pajama pants is just passing through.
The mailman is a weirdo, the handyman no Schneider. They replaced the intercom with something much more baffling. Squirrels scurrying along the window ledge highway stop and look in. I stare back. I like the way that time stands still in these moments.
