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The All-Seeing Eye
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Monday, October 10th, 2005

Time Event
DECISION! Explosive Fist Fusillade - Gambatte!
So... I could break my lease, and the rent a house. Said house is lived in by two very good friends, and owned by their father/father-in-law. It's 1800 square feet, 3 bedrooms, 2.5 bathrooms, with a generous downstairs area and a yard for my dog.

Said father probably wants to sell it within 2 years, but cannot do it for at least 18 months due to Capital Gains and some fancy footwork he needs to do.

Rent would be 700-800 dollars, with utilities, it would probably end up being about what I pay now.

Devon would need a zone variance to keep going to Becker for this year, but then would go to the same High School.

It seems like a good idea. By the time the father sells, I'll have my MLIS, and will be decided to either buy a house, or get out of Vegas armed with my degree and a hopefully well-stocked resume.

Thing is, I *do* like my apartment. It's cute! It has skylights!
BUT... a yard, more room, a bedroom devoid of boxes of comics and gaming and action figures?

What to do?
Fist of the Northern Mushroom
You like Mario? You like Fist of the Northstar? You like bad translations?

Welcome to your personal Xanadu

Current Mood: determined
That's my favorite poem, btw. Well, that and Jabberwocky are locked in an eternal steel-cage match for supremacy inside my skull. Let's pretend the following is a poem, when actually it's secret agent badly disguised as haiku. Haiku from another world, ready to live in you like a mobile home, and drive you around this terrarium:

There is a world outside, and there are mysteries, and there is silence and strange looks. There are fey eyes and laughter and I am not part of this.

The worst things do not self-edit, the bastard that I was. There is no chamber between mind and mouth. A head full of poison can only speak in toxic sentences. Yet, I forgive, I forget, I do not care.

Midnight closes in, and I feel the maudlin shroud descend. Outside, in the night's land, there are seeds that will not grow, hidden from the hopeful sun, hidden from a gambler, hidden from the if/but/maybe of the cat in the box.

Norse gods, greek gods, but I'm the only god I know, and if I cannot make the sun rise, might I stop believing, cease?

I will live on in smoke and mirrors, when I force myself to laugh.

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