“I couldn't live a week without a private library
- indeed, I'd part with all my furniture and squat and sleep on the floor
before I'd let go of the 1500 or so books I possess.” ― H.P. Lovecraft

Whistling In The Graveyard

Thursday, October 14, 2004

Well work continues on the new Lil' Zombie strips as well as Terribly Wrong's 'Something Here Is Terribly Wrong'. And though those things are consuming slightly more time than anything I do besides sleeping (Roughly broken down it's sleeping, drawing, masturbating, video games and then eating) that doesn't mean the nieghborhood has gotten any quieter or less interesting.

To start with, just two days after my last incident with the police, I had another. I was putting the car in the garage after picking Nate up from work.

My garage faces the alley and as I have no garage-door-opener someone has to get out of the car (in this instance it was Nate) and open it. This pretty well blocks the alley.

So as we're doing this, a cop car pulls into the alley and stops a short distance away.

I figure he's just going to wait for a second.

Then he turns out his headlights.

Does the fact that I was a bit bothered by that make me paranoid?

He gets out and walks up to the car just as Nate is getting the door open (it sticks a bit) and...

*dramatic tension*

...it's the same cop from the last incident. The one we went to high school with.

This really bothers me.

See, there's this thing called 'Synchronicity'.

Synchronicity: Term for 'meaningful coincidence' coined by C.G. Jung to describe a cluster of events which do not appear to not have any direct [physical] causal connection with each other, yet are related through their sense of meaning. That is, the relationship between the events is evoked and recognized within the contextual meaning of the events.

In my world synchronicity is a bad thing.

Nothing good ever comes from it.

Ever.

So now I'm just waiting for the punchline. It may just be another speeding ticket (God I hope it's just another speeding ticket) or it could be far worse.

Guess which outcome is suggested by the way my luck has been going?

Anyways, I invited my cop friend to come by and hang out anytime, just so long as he keeps the cop car parked out front where the nieghbors can get a good look at it.

He said he wouldn't want to let it out of his sight around here.

That's fucking encouraging.

So in case you were wondering, the nieghbors are still loads of fun.

It seems that the guy across the street that used to bang on the electric box has moved out. Probably because somebody (probably our nieghbors with the dog) busted out all of his windows.

It was likely over an argument about pro-wrestling.

Dear God I wish I was fucking making that up.

And speaking of those nieghbors, my friend Sham's wife Macheal was coming into the house yesterday when she heard one of them remark "I guess those guys aren't gay after all".

At this point I'd like to point out that none of us are gay.

Not that we're anti-gay by any means, we're just not gay.

Thing is, all the gay people I've known tended to be fairly clean and conscious of thier appearance. Simply put: they wouldn't live in the rotting cesspool that we live in.

They would also dress better, probably keep thier lawn neater, and likely smell much better than I do.

Apart from those stereotypes, the only thing about us that seems gay is the fact that we're three single 30-year-old guys living together in a house and hardly any women ever come over.

And we can occasionally be overheard talking about butt-sex.

And Jay plays tennis.

Damn, maybe we are gay.

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