dangerous compassions

I call you / from the comet's cradle

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

home

The apartment complex is so loud nowadays that it's like a cross between a preschool play yard and a disco. Walking from the car to the front door is like walking through a battleground. The staircase we usually take upstairs was blocked tonight by four people at its base, so we took another, which had food spilled on every step in a way that seemed entirely deliberate.

I hate it here, and we need to move, but rather than move within Sacramento, when moving is so expensive, I would rather just Move, which means another city such as the Bay area or Portland. But we haven't found me a job, and it's so rare that I see a listing that I'm even interested in applying for.

But the apartment complex, which is like our own small neighborhood, has gone from decent to street, and I'm feeling crazy and like I never belong anywhere, but I particularly, especially don't belong here. When I'm stressed out from work, I can't take another layer. I'm running the air to try to block some of the bass.

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