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Oh bitter, bitter irony!

Right now the manager is taking someone through my apartment.


If I'd know he'd start showing the place so soon, I would have cleaned it up a bit - like maybe put away some clothes, hid all my PANTIES SCATTERED AROUND THE DRESSER, and made the bed. Ok, so, my apartment is nothing as bad as what I saw last night, but still. I'm trying to remember if I have any empty rum bottles sticking out of my trashcan. Holy shit, what are they going to think of the plaster cast of a bloody human heart that Mary Robinette Kowal gave me - it's smack in the middle of my desk (and on top of a stack of books about black magic to boot). Ah fuck, this is embarrassing. Maybe whoever's looking at the place will just pocket some DVD's and ignore the GIANT OPEN BOX OF TAMPONS IN THE BATHROOM. I can only hope.

Note to self: buy rum tonight.

Marine Autumn

I owe you marine autumn
With dankness at its roots
and fog like a grape
and the graceful sun of the country;
and the silent space
in which sorrows lose themselves
and only the bright crown
of joy comes to the surface.

--Pablo Neruda.

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