La Dick

where do i find prints of the art in belly? because i want it all over my walls and the inside of my head.

so apparently the nightly ritual of the Gs downstairs is to rap, smoke weed, bump into shit, and cough until five am. then they disappear for a few hours and i stress out about trying to fall asleep and how much work i have to do in the morning and how fucking annoying they were and finally fall asleep only to be awoken by a single bird singing the same incessant three notes. i secretly make a deal with god that if he gives me a sniper rifle i'll quit swearing forever. he doesn't answer. i pray to Mary for a slingshot, at least, but she doesn't exist either so i just stress out and toss and turn. then at 8 am the gangsters reconvene and sing fucking karaoke. no joke. they sing the same motherfucking techno song with female vocals over and over and motherfucking over. there are like 10 of them, all different ages, and they each have their own part to the song - one dude busts out the chorus, one older dude loves the hook, and there's a certain 16 bars that one dude was jumping all over. i couldn't make this shit up if i tried.

the only good thing about this living situation is that the floor and walls and windows of my room are completely uninsulated, so all the weed they smoke drifts up and i'm blazed 24/7. if there's one way to handle slipping into a potentially brutal depression it's to catch a contact buzz of the Norteños downstairs, right?