called you unusable...see how well you fair.

i've decided that all of my blog titles will be whatever song lyric is playing in the background when i begin writing. if chance or serendipity play in my favor, then so be it.

i'm beginning to feel more conviction about my decision to move here, even if i am on the stale and fail side of portland proper. goddammit it, i have privacy. i have a weird little porch. i have a parking spot. i have an amazing korean bakery that is a stone's throw away. they sell those eggy, chewy, bbq'd pork-filled buns you see on dim sum menus for $.80 a pop. not so bad, really.

this week revealed a few interesting and promising morsels.

for one, i've found it's entirely feasible and trouble-free to blare hole's "live through this" album, from beginning to end, at top volume- with my porch window open. you can sing it at the top of your lungs and nobody seems to care.

this. this one thing. it is gold.

so, perhaps that management guy was right about my neighbors being hard of hearing and it working in my favor. my penchant for loud music late at night just might be acceptable in my new home. like i said: GOLD.

secondly, i have learned randy's strong inclination for self prose. that's the nice way of saying the dude talks to himself constantly. it's actually quite charming. reminds me of my mother, who is also getting old and senile as the days pass. yesterday morning, he cursed loudly at his van while, of course, puffing away on a cigarette. i want to know this guy! what is your story, randy? are you an old hippy? are you a republican? do you yearn for company, or are you completely satisfied spending your days alone in that trailer next to me? did you know, randy, that my first stepfather had your name? i've always hated that name. i'm working on embracing it.

i am still adjusting to the fact that my home feels like a train car. as mentioned in my first post, i grew up in a trailer. it was a double-wide, which, truth be told, feels a lot more spacious than a single-wide. my new home is like a train car. you must walk down a skinny hallway and pass by the weird little cat room i've made, and then by my bathroom, to get to slumber land. somehow this feels cozier than any bedroom i've had in a long time. the fact that 75% of my bedroom is BED helps.

i resign myself to this new life.