we'll skip the bit about my old landlord, the elvis cafe and the mysteriously clogged drain. i'm in a new house and let's leave it at that.

it's a decrepit old two-story affair, rented out to me on the cheap with a limited lease by altruistic owners who wanted to help a foreign student. when i first saw the house, the roof was leaking. it seems to be patched now. likewise, the toilet was caved in and now it's fixed. at first i was amazed at the beautiful repair job that had been done on the toilet, but in the less than a month since i moved in some of the veneer has already peeled off the walls, revealing the mouldy old paint beneath.

the deceased previous tenant's kimonos are still stored upstairs in an old edo period dresser, his good luck charms hanging by the stairs. i'm living downstairs in the middle room, above the trap door. i had the courage to open it once, but the courage didn't last. it was actually surprisingly neat underneath the house - much cleaner than up above - maybe that's why i found it so unsettling? in any case, i've moved a bag of clothes, still unpacked, on top of the door and placed my futon on the other side of the room.

sometimes, as i sit on the floor in front of my laptop, i hear the cat bolt suddenly across the stained tatami mats, slip on the hardwood of the front hall and bounce lightly off the wall. sometimes the neighbours' dog, who lives in the narrow alley between the two houses, can be heard lapping up his water or whining for food or company. most of the time it's so quiet, though, that i can even hear the pairs of cockroaches as they cautiously scuttle their way in across the floor from the open back door.

rollling up a paper, i lie in wait as a pair enter the middle room. a little closer...a little closer...THWACK, i hit the tatami floor certain that i've been successful and frustrated because it means i'm going to have to print the paper out again. somehow, though, by virtue of some magical insect jujutsu, the cockroaches fly into the air through the force of my blow and then, hitting the tatami mat again, scuttle under the trap door before i can reach them.

mp3::blank one
latest cd::sleeping possession (databloem records)