cellini's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- In which I finally become a proper human being again I moved into this weird fucking house. Having horrible credit after a year of civil rights journalism and the accompanying poverty before I took this job in Florida, I figured that normal house-renting procedures are not available to me. Also, and probably more importantly, I arrived here several months after the semester started and I missed the point when most leases begin. Most of the listings I responded to turned out to be scams. So how the fuck do I get a house to live in? I have a good job here, I make a lot of money, this shouldn't be a problem. I responded to an ad on CL that had no photos of the house. It turned out to be a listing by "Ang3lia, the P0lka Queen." This odd woman earned her phd and made a career out of simultaneously teaching and performing humorous polkas for the last 20 years. As recently as 10 years ago, she still looked kinda hot. She bought a house 15 years ago and turned it into "the Castle." It is decorated like a Kindergarden's idea of what a castle should look like. Shitty murals on the walls. Swords and shields. Faux stone installations and an L shaped stage in the large combination living and dining room. There is also a piano. I wanted that stage and piano. So here I am on my first night in The Castle. I am paying $850 a month -- first and last months payable, plus a month's deposit -- to live in The Castle. She threw in a large pair of speakers and a PA system. Christ, this is really fucking weird. She was supposed to move her stuff out, minus furniture, but the garage is still filled with heaps of her clothes and other random shit. The house is riddled with random costume jewelry and fake plants and flowers dangled everywhere. I'm going to try to turn the main room into a sort of cafe/bar/music venue type of space. It's already half-way there. Right now, tonight, this is the first time that I have been in possession of a space that is unambiguously mine in something like 3 years. The entire house is in my hands. It may look and smell like weird hippie polka castle lady shit, but it's mine now. Meghan is pissed that I am not living with her. Oh well. This house is really, really weird. And I live here. I'm going to build guitars here and fuck women here and cook food and write stuff. And this is the first time in years that I have felt some degree of freedom. I can get drunk and sing loudly and play the piano there is nobody who gets to complain. The PA system. I am excited about that. I will buy some old-fashioned stereo components on Friday (payday) and order a guitar amp. Enough of this shit where music comes out of my laptop or phone and into some headphones. I'm going to listen to music the way I did when I was in high school and college. Fucking loud, through big ass speakers and maybe on vinyl (which was already out of date when I was in middle school but I like it). And I'm gonna buy a used Spanish classical guitar. And then next month I'm gonna buy a Fender Bass VI. And then order the parts to build a copy of a vintage 1950's Fender Bassman Amp. Next weekend I will throw away pretty much everything in the kitchen and buy a new set of dishes. I want simple, white plates and bowls that make the food look good. And I'll get some new Revereware or something like that for pots and pans. One good piece of cast iron. Toss out this shitty set of 4 flexible cutting boards that came with the house and buy one really good, thick, white plastic cutting board that I can actually sanitize. The scent is the first thing I have to change. It isn't bad. Like, if I was dating an attractive woman and her house smelled like this then I would probably key onto that and think it was great. But that is not the situation. Angelica is well past her prime and has disgustingly long toenails and while I would have thought she was hot 15 years ago (I have seen photos), I don't have that sense memory attached. I found a little vial of essential oil with three sticks coming out of it and bagged it up, knotted the bag, and tossed it in the trash. Hopefully that will help. Also she had a cat. Yeah. I think I should also probably buy a negative ion generator on Friday when I get paid. I HAVE AUTONOMY AGAIN! I am an actual human being. I brought my Stratocaster (the USA one I've had since I was 12) out of the car for the first time since I drove down here and it has a place to exist. I almost dare to take it out of it's case and prop it in the corner.
12:52 a.m. - 2019-02-11 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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