let's pretend it is a work of art, let's pretend it is not my heart... (more Magnetic Fields, while unpacking)...
I spend all day in the former beautiful apartment that has now become a house of horrors. I only sit down in the kitchen where I can avoid looking at the horrible other rooms that now look like an antiques dealer's consignment shop. yesterday I experienced a flash of the Stockholm Syndrome, I yelled at the cable man (who called me names and was 3 1/2 hours late). GGRRRR.
I am also caught up in a strange story of compromise in other areas as well: young man, old man, poor man, rich man, baggage free man, riddled with baggage man, etc etc. what to do, what to do... in the end i know i'll just get rid of both, it is easier to deal with the devil you know, so back to the same old same old, safety and security is probably better (paging married guy here!).
I hate my life. Today I also actually received a response to a job application, a new experience since mostly i don't get even a 'formula note' , well this one assured me that a 'better suited candidate' was indeed picked.. this does nothing for my already lousy self-esteem. ugh.. My unemployment has dried up and i Icelandair is now finally flying from NY, I guess that means I should go home and get a job in a supermarket and accept my destiny....
But the private chef next door is French and sweet and told me all about his dead wife....
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