come home with me. we should get married.
navigation thingie
me and my big head. what happens if you click it?

 



copyrights, usage and general site information. you can click it.

Join the TREMBLE 2K Street Team for site updates, preferential treatment, and invaluable girl talk:




NOTIFYLIST.COM
makes it go.

GHOST TROUBLES.

I have trouble with ghosts. Well, one ghost in particular. It's not the late night caterwauling from within the walls of my apartment that troubles me -- my broker made me aware of the potential for ghostly death cries inside my walls and, as a bargaining chip, offered to cut her usual fee of 38% of my first year's rent to a more charitable 32%. (so, in a sense, the wailing is a blessing rather than a curse). What troubles me is how passive-aggressive my ghost is. That's the worst kind of rommmate possible.

It started out with little things. The ghost tried to get on my sweet side by leaving difficult-to-bake pastries and cookies out for me each night. At first I was frightened, then flattered. But let it be said that nothing comes without a price.

We had agreed to split the rent and utilities. I thought this was fair and even though the ghost completed the bulk of the household chores, the trade-off was that he had all of that extra square footage inside the walls and ceiling and in this part of town space is a pretty valuable commodity. I could see the potential for this rent issue causing a bit of friction between myself and the ghost but I had no idea exactly how awkward it would become.

After about the third month of cohabitation, the notes started. Little post-its would appear around the apartment with notes on them like, "Hey, todd. Are those your dishes in the sink? Because I don't think they're mine. If you could take care of them, that would be great. I'm afraid of roaches." Really annoying stuff. And always notes; never a real confrontation. Soon, the ghost would start to leave a little less for utilities and always with a little note that would say something like, "I just figured, since I don't have a corporeal body, I really shouldn't be paying quite as much for heat and hot water. I hope you'll understand. By the way, I made profiterole -- help yourself!"

And it didn't end there. Here's one I received about a month ago: "Hope your day went well. And, oh, by the way...todd, I'm glad you are exploring your sexuality -- I think that should be a magical experience for the Living -- but I was wondering if you could refrain from bringing women back to the apartment after, say, 10pm. It's just that, well, as you know I took my own life out of loneliness and as a result am damned for eternity to have my soul pace these floors, while my physical form decays in a modest grave near the Brooklyn Aquarium. It makes it a bit difficult for me, hearing you in the throes of clumsy passion, knowing I will never know the warm flesh of another again. Let me know if it's a problem. Thanks!"

I rue the day I moved out of my cozy studio apartment, built right over an ancient Indian burial ground. I was two blocks from the train, 1 block from a laundromat. A bit expensive but very quiet, if you didn't mind the ominous lamentations of 200 Iroquois souls every night at the 12th stroke of midnight. I guess I just got greedy.

 

it's just a line; don't worry too much
read the archives, please. does that make me gay? meet the author, more or less. this is the email link you were perhaps looking for