hangover's disability:


Sub Burps

The air is so thick now, I can barely hear everything. There was a dash, not a mad dash, for I reached the part of life with benefits and forced rewards.

I’m in a house where I don’t feel like I’m stuck.

I’m converting the surrounding shrubbery to be drought tolerant. How responsible of me, how crafty of me, how thrifty of me; however.

I fib to neighbors that it has be a clean and wholesome path that brought me here. Why tell them the truth, even though they probably implemented the same sort of somewhat naughty behaviors back in 1948?

A choice.

The occupants of the houses on either side of us are hard of hearing due to being superannuated. It’s not their fault, they’re lucky they made it this far, they have stories of dead friends and children.

Sophia is particularly interesting. She seems to show up whenever I’m pulling out the ivy in order to put down succulents. She rakes the invisible leaves on her grass and voices herself loudly, a behavior she has developed for her husband James is nearly deaf with an oxygenator tube in his nose.

so when are you going to be done with pulling up the ivy?

“It’s an engineering process, everything must layer properly, I’m not taking my time, I’m taking care. How’s James?”

He’s still churning: What are you going to put in place of the ivy?

“I was thinking a mine field, or something more dangerous. Perhaps a crocidile mote or a nuclear fission power plant”

Maybe she giggles, uncormfortably. Maybe she thinks I’m weird. Maybe she hears the blasting music from within our homestead; my wife and I, we do love the stereo.

The tinnitus in my head is louder when no one is talking. It was sort of breezy that day. Kind of pleasant 70’s temperature. There’s no kids on this street, these neighbors have been here for 35 years. That idea used to make me sad. I just got here…, whoa, eight years ago. Wait a minute.


Once again I’m almost dead.

5:04 p.m. - April 15, 2016


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