Sunday, July 11, 2010

Climbing up the walls. . .

HOW LONG again did I say it would be before I felt like the walls were closing in? The light in my room has died, and I'm in semi-darkness. Two cockroaches that were scaling up my bedroom wall lie dead on my floor, victims of some recently purchased insect spray. Survive a nuclear holocaust? They couldn't even handle a hand-held chemical weapon out of a convenience store.

I keep thinking I see creatures creeping about out of the corner of my eye. I realise it takes supreme arrogance to question the Almighty's work, but what was he thinking when he created the cockroach? Nasty, sneaking, creepy, vile, ugly, relentless creatures. You can only have contempt for something that lives of off rubbish and shit.

My laptop keeps making noises and won't type properly. It's hot. It's always hot. There is a fan, but all that does is blow hot air at me until the sweat congeals on my body. About as useful as a virginal prostitute.

I'm beginning to appreciate the meaning of the phrase "you get what you pay for". Somewhere in this neon-rich metropolis there is a better place to live. I've got three weeks left here. Three weeks to find somewhere else.

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