Last night SUCKED. We had to clean the whole house to get our deposit back, but Jesse and Lorq had to work so I was there alone most of the day. First the power was shut off, so a carpet cleaner was out since those need electricity and water. We managed to run an extension cord from the neighbors house so we could at least power a vacuum cleaner that barely works, but then that died. Then the sun went down. Fucking lame. Filled some garbage cans with water a block away then carried those over so stuff could be spounged off, and most things in our house proved to be covered in mouse shit so the water got gross pretty quick. JW got off work a little after the sun went down, shortly after I'd been scrubbing the floors in my room by candle light. Eventually we accomplished enough that we could drink beer on the roof one last time, we even threw some tires on the roof to sit in which was actually quite comfortable. We were keen enough on them that we aborted the old plan of leaving them on the roof forever and took them to his new house. Anyhow, I live on the other side of town now with a couple of other people. The rent is higher and none of the places I find myself wanting to go are within comfortable walking distance, which in turn leads to being sober more often so I can drive. I guess it's a mixed bag.

Yesterday rocked so fucking hard. I worked a meager 1.25 hours, and since I have to walk over twenty blocks just to get to the shop I decided I wanted to do more with my day before simply turning around and going back. Eventually, I communicated with Matt and coordinated some extensive drinking. The Rogue Brewery is selling Dead Guy Ale, a robust, knock you on your ass type beer by the half gallon now, which is really a pretty strange idea. We each managed to put down a half gallon each in about a half an hour and for some reason decided a bike ride across town would be a good idea. After this point I don't remember much, but I woke up at my new house with blood and puke covering an impressive number of surfaces, a fat lip, a big scrape under my eye, and other scrapes, bruises, and swollen body parts in numbers to large to mention. I was pretty surprised since this was at about two in the afternoon and we somehow managed not to get arrested for whatever all happened. My new roommates were stoked, I'm sure.

Last night I had just gone to bed when some guy I live with said the police were doing something outside and I should check it out. I got up and looked out the window, and sure enough there were about seven police cars surrounding a white van across the street, all armed with guns or spot lights. A guy on a loud speaker kept repeating, "Mr. Wilkenson, we know you're in there. Come out with your hands up." I figured if a dozen or so cops wouldn't confront him face to face, he must be armed or some shit. After a while of the guy repeating that he knew Mr. Wilkenson was in the van, they finally went up and opened it. They all looked disappointed. Apparently whoever was bad enough to warrant 7 cop cars on his ass had slyly left his van about 75 feet from our front door. The police packed up and left the van. I went back to my room, and I don't know that I've made this complaint yet, but the windows in my room don't close. Yeah, some fucktard actually painted them open before I moved in. So I stayed up reading for a while because I didn't want to be owned by Mr. Wilkenson in my sleep. That's it. Sorry for the anti-climax. I have nothing else to write about.

Matt and I bought more half gallons of beer and a fifth of everclear. Booze was deposited safely in the back of my car before we drove to Seattle. We caught up with some friends and went to the Leftover Crack concert, which provided one of the more intense mosh pits I've ever been in. A guy behind us in the line before we'd entered had told us we were losers for not buying our tickets on the internet, so Matt and Paul found him in the pit and punched him the kidneys every time they walked by, I believe the final amount was 9 hits. Pretty sweet. We caught up with Kelly Fuckin' Akers, as in Kelly from Kelly's Korner, and he drove me around before I crashed on his couch. A lovely day to be sure.

Napoleon Dynamite has come highly recommended to me by various friends, all of which have seen it at least twice, so Reed and I set out to see what the hype was about. At less than two hours, this film achieves an impressive semblance to a 12 hour car ride through the desert. Time and space are swallowed by the black hole on stage, creating the illusion of death without rebirth. AKA a fucking shitty movie. Accompanied by elevator music and a complete absence of explosions, necrophelia jokes, nudity or even guitar solos, this film is guaranteed to bore me to tears each time. Towards the end of the screening I farted a long, loud fart, causing several people to laugh. That was the only funny part of the movie, when I farted in the theater. And then in the parking lot when I yelled, "I was the guy who farted!" That was funny too.

Today I started work by crawling around under the building to find a water leak. Not cool. There was about 18 inches of space between the dirt and the cobweb coated boards, and it seemed like homeless people had been hanging out down there because of all the malt liquor bottles and cigarette butts. I found a dead pigeon as well, which I assumed was only partially responsible for the ungodly smell. Later, I went out to my boss' house to clean. I collected dishes from around his house and managed to spill one of his bongs on the counter. His dog had a seizure and crapped on the floor, but after a while she was fine. So....that was my day.


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