I've been busy moving down to my parent's rental apartment. The house behind the house that nobody really knows about. It's a 1940's dream house. It's actually in pretty decent shape.
The previous tennants left this thing on the wall; it looks like an injured man
nailed to a wooden "T", someone sure did have a sick sense of humor.
Anyway, I have no idea what im doing. I know I'll save a lot of money living here, and splitting the bills with Brian. Maybe I'll find somthing to look forward to in the future. I don't know. In the meantime things aren't so bad. As long as I stay off drugs and stop prostituting myself out, I'll be just swell. I wish I had some kind of higher ambition to shoot for.
bleh...