Moving in with the Goon Squad (Monster Post Style)

Hello...It's been a while hasn't it?

Couple of quick updates: The Seattle Monorail has been voted in...for the fourth time. Which doesn't alleviate the direness of everything else that happened on 11/02, but hey.

Also, I am not moving to Canada at this point (though Vancouver BC is just a tantalizing few hours away) , and while I can't wrap my mind around it all, better commentary can be found elsewhere. In surprising news, The Stranger actually comes out with something I can stand behind.

Now, remember how I mentioned how I needed to find a roommate a couple of weeks ago? Well.

Sigh.

On October 30th, I called the landlord to let him know that the search was on. He calls me back and says that we needed to talk. We play phone tag until that fateful November 2nd, when he informs me that in order for me to stay in the apartment, he needed to be paid the back rent due.

What back rent?

It turns out that when my former roommate told me he was moving out, he neglected to inform me that he hadn't paid rent for two months.

Now, extenuating circumstances being what they are, it must be said that the former roommate has not been the same since he was diagnosed with intestinal cancer (found early, treatable, but cancer at the age of 32 is a big fucking deal).

Still though.

So, I needed to move out, and what with one thing and the other (which I won't get into here now, seeing as I just dumped all of that on someone else) I am forced to move in with The Goon Squad.

I'll give you the Goon Squad roster at a later date.

But, if there's one thing I've learned about myself since leaving the CoSpgs 12 years ago, it's that I like living by myself. If there's a relationship going on, that's something else, but otherwise, I just don't like the notion of roommates. Not at all.

The reason is simple: I like not having to deal with other people's habits...The dirty dishes in the sink are mine, the laundry laying around on the bedroom floor is mine, and cleaning is my responsibility alone, and I can do it on my schedule...

(after several cigarettes, some other stuff, and Melt Banana, I return in a milder mood. The Creatures accompany me in the rest:)

So, anyway, I'm moving in with the Goon Squad. Once I settle, things won't seem so melodramatic. Yes, circumstances could be, as Laurie Anderson put it, "much much better," but then, as one hit wonders Opus once said, "c'est la vie."

The cat, a moody bitch to begin with--especially during stressful times, could deal with being with other people again (something that has helped a lot in the past). Also, other cats. (And, gods help me, one of the roommates Entireshome, loves to push its buttons...jesus, what am I getting into.)

Myself, I'm going into it with the goal of doing it for just three months, but realising it'll probably be for six. Or more.

My friend, L, said something to me about recognizing that, for him, each leap year tends to be cathartic in nature. I looked back at my own leap years, and had to agree. Going as far back as 1980, I can recall something just overwhelming happening.

There are other thoughts in there somewhere, but, like the man tattooed behind my right ear once said, "I must be going."

(ps--I need to thank L and S for their hospitality over the last 24 hrs. Each of them allergic to cats, they let me crash, go to work and relax before the mayhem of moving in begins. I owe them a debt of gratitude.)