the mice are closing in

Eric keeps posting things posed as me. He's probably just advancing my sweet street cred.

The mice keep coming back into the apartment. This time I think they are living behind the refridgerator and underneath the tv unit which doesn't work. I was reading last night after everyone had fallen asleep, and those little fuckers have become so brave that they were climbing around the rug at my feet, and trying to scale the radio antenna by my head. They stared me down. I stared them down. The only way I won was by shouting at them over and over, forcing them to run back under the refridgerator, underneath the tv. I don't know if they wanted to eat me, or spoon me. They are so cute, I would like to think it is spooning. Although I wouldn't be surprised if they multiplied and eventually carried me off into the night, poking me with tiny spears.

Aviodance is my tactic for pretty much everything. I do not respect this tactic.

I just keep moving idlly around the apartment. Couch, giant chair, kitchen for water, floor to pet the dog, bathroom, giant chair, couch, loft, down the stairs, turn around, up the stairs, couch, myspace for the tripple-digited time, open a book, read a page, close the book, floor to pet the dog, check the time on my phone, check the time on the stove clock, kitchen for more water, kitchen for more water, giant chair, change my shirt, bathroom, kitchen for more water and dillided luke warm tea, rearange things on the coffee table, couch, giant chair, couch, floor, dog, check the time, giant chair, bathroom, couch, bathroom, water, kitchen, couch, dog. All day. I don't know what I'm doing or not doing. Avoidance leads to feeling unsettled. So that would make sence. Dog, couch, chair, water, bathroom, dog.

More sunshine, Eric says. What is going on with me today? I feel like I am slipping slowly down the rungs of some very tall ladder. Like I should be spinning tiny circles on the carpet.

Going to see Sammy's show tonight. Sammy's shows are bangin'.