"I can see what a useless man I've become."

"So... semi-homelessness it is," I say.
"That old chestnut?" you relay.
"Yep, that's the one."
"...Is that the part where you don't have anything else of value to sell and you're moving out of your room so that rent in your house gets paid on time?"
"Mmmhmm." (nodding)
"Well..." (purses lips, rocks on heels, all while avoiding eye contact) "I guess all that hard work---"
"Was for nothing, yeah," I interrupt, looking suspiciously like I will pick up and throw the first small human being I see.
"I, uh, do not envy you. That's, um, a less-than-desirable position you're in there."
"Yeah, a bit of a fucking pickle, huh?"
"MMMmmmmwellllll, yes. You know, you have to look at this as an opportunity to be creative. Get some writing done or something of that nature. What I mean to say is, when life gives you lemons you---"
"Sell all your shit, I know."

Though the above dialogue is entirely fabricated, it's exactly how I imagine conversations with certain family members to occur, seeing as how I'm officially on the verge of roomlessness. Though it sounds harrowing to many, I feel rather prepared. Blessed, if you will. And I wouldn't. I wouldn't use the word "blessed", I mean (not being the religious type, you see; no belief in a higher power and all that). I do, however, have friends who always go to extraordinary lengths to make life easy for me, and I've already been offered storage space and the occasional sofa to sleep on. This will help tremendously, and being fueled by a desperation so complete and engulfing, only tantamount to a wounded, cornered lioness protecting her cubs, I will survive this most recent plight.


In the spirit of keeping a distressing situation at bay with a jovial attitude, I've compiled another terrible list.

Pros and Cons of having no place to live:

Pros:

• Cheap Rent
• More time spent outdoors (thus, the possibility for a tan... well, probably not, but whatever)
• Less wear on leftover records since they'll be packed away
• No more preoccupation with "privacy" anymore
• Learning more about friends' couches and floors
• No more cleaning my room
• Living Orwell's "down and out" lifestyle that I thought was such a bold statement and important sociological experiment (when I was fucking fourteen)
• Justification for showering only two or three times a week (on a good week)

Cons:

• Life sucks

Thoroughly fucked, yet still in good spirits,
Craig

P.S. Four Loko photo arranged by Alex Grubb, after someone felt the need to drink a high-gravity malt liquor energy drink in the confines of a telephone booth. And what does "high-gravity" mean anyway? I suppose when I drink a Loko, I can definitely feel the gees more-so than when I'm sans a Loko. I'll give them that. I give them that; they give me regrets. Even trade, I should think. Lioness photo by who cares?

P.P.S. The title of this post was taken from Faraquet's "Study in Complacency" and subsequently used without permission. Please, don't be angry with me, Faraquet. I love you. You too, Medications.