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shuled This picture is particularly fascinating. Given the appearance of the S. Beckenstein building signage in the background, the woman appears to be standing on Broome Street between Ludlow and Essex. The pile of wreckage is now the site of the municipal parking lot.
This picture is particularly fascinating. Given the appearance of the S. Beckenstein building signage in the background, the woman appears to be standing on Broome Street between Ludlow and Essex. The pile of wreckage is now the site of the municipal parking lot.
paid in full
now, its hard not to admit that unveiling the co-conspirator made my task of confronting "the mark" with a series of uncomfortable and almost assuredly necessary truths that much easier but as i would not have done so without the chiders prodding, i dont feel as if i had any responsibility to the chider for keeping their identity out of the equation. in fact, it bolstered my claims immensely so to do so would have been irresponsible because the mark really wouldnt have had to question the gravity of their decisions.
the chider, essentially, is not a supporter of inconvenient truths though when they inconvenience him. and since the chider and the mark are presently working together on a project (the chider holding all the power though) there was some ill-will which surfaced when they reconvened soon after the conspiracy was set in motion. but from the sound of it, some future good may have come of it all, as the mark maybe made some sound decisions that will at least in the short term help them along the path towards resolution. more likely, they are just kicking the can down the road a piece but i cant really help them beyond that. ive got my own can to look after.
whats new is old she said, "nothing." i asked her "whats old?" she said, "everything."
she said, "nothing."
i asked her "whats old?"
she said, "everything."
the party of the first part
now to a degree her troubles are spilling over into my kitchen and im not anxious to deal with the mess, with anxious being the operative word. already some housing officials have made us clear the hallways, so my bike has to take up space in my apartment and supposedly we are to be monitored on this more closely. she claims this was not her doing but the landlord while shaking the five enveloped citations within his enraged fist was adamant that they cited her as the source. this is, of course, ironic because she has been the worst offender of us all, leaving all sorts of detritus for months on end outside her door waiting to be removed. if she did complain it was about the state of the garbage at the doorway which is an eyesore, but more so, a nosesore, and as it turns out, not surprisingly, a violation. again, more irony, as the landlord was eager to show me the notarized letter with the well researched violations she had presented him with, and none of which i was in any disagreement with but nonetheless had essentially made my peace with.
so ive made my modest effort at peacekeeping but both sides have encroached on the neutral zone and im getting my blue-hatted ass out of the dmz although i may make one more effort to have her accept the merits of moving rather than unleashing the dogs of war. ive heard all sorts of horror stories about collateral damage and i have no desire to become a blameless statistic.
as my tete a tete with the landlord ended, a congress in which i had unilaterally engaged, he began crooning "que sera sera" and i endeavored in a final note of conviviality to name the artist who made it a hit. he, of course, had no clue and was not interested in playing along but a captive and attentive audience suited him just fine. in the end, i settled upon rosemary clooney and after little thought he agreed with me. i was pleased with my depth of knowledge although not convinced of my certitude by any measure but wanting to end it on a high note stretched out my hand, unclenched my jaw and secured future good will for the third floor for the foreseeable future. as it turns out it was doris day that charted with that mouthful of wist but between you, me and the broken doorbell it will be scented with rosemary for one red-nosed sharp-tongued landlord.
(unedited at publication)
i can see for miles and miles
currently (no pun intended) the mitre box is whirring away as unfinished moldings are being fitted. there is the distinct smell of epoxy but i wont question their methods. i might suggest that this is the result of being overcome with fumes but as i am famously lazy i should bear at least some of the burden for having no answers in my toolkit. as for the "currently" pun which was not a pun, i keep expecting each violent spin from the toothy wheel to ultimately bring misfortune as this building is notoriously underpowered. the light in the bathroom was straining credulity as i was, um, performing abolutions so i quickly flicked it off (ok, yanked the chain, im not proud) and even am going so far as to unplug my computer intermittently. i happened to notice on my last trip downstairs to ponder the fate of the disenfranchised windows (id considered keeping one for decorative purposes) that my landlord has closed up shop at least for the moment so as fates favorite chew toy i was sure the power outage would take place in his absence. but all is well for the time being. the smell of rice is wafting from the "dining room" as the asian workmen take their lunch and figuratively, if not literally, chew the fat.
at one point earlier i did attempt to make a joke with one of them as they cursed in english after dropping the saw somewhat abruptly. i said to him that was the one thing theyve said that i did understand. but as you may have guessed, he didnt have the slightest idea what i was saying. all things considered, ill take competence over communication any time.