So I'm about to write some really deep insightful blog post when my new neighbor decides it's time to rearrange all the shit he's got disbursed around his back porch.
It's after midnight and raining out.
Fucking guy. So inconsiderate.
Of course, I'm no model of upright citizenry either. I have pissed off my share of neighbors. I remember a girl I used to shoot heroin with once threw up over a balcony railing onto a patio table below... that people were getting ready to have dinner on.
We ended up getting friendly with those neighbors though, copping quite a bit of crack with them over a year or so. Once they revived me from an overdose by pulling me onto my feet and pounding on my chest. I don't even remember the guy's name... his girlfriend's name was Cheryl, which we thought was humorous because back then that's what they called the powder cocaine on the street in Baltimore. Cheryl.
Sigh.
Now I have my ducks all in a row and there will be no crack smoking with the nuts in the apartment below. Instead I will fear the confrontation they are pushing me into. I'll obsess over it until it happens and then I'll cringe with the awkward reality that is upsetting someone who doesn't give a fuck how uneasy I feel.
That's how my mind works without the solutions I need. And I'm not getting enough of any solution in my life right now. My actions are driving a wedge between me and God, and it's retarded. I fucking know better. What is wrong with me? Ha! I know what's wrong with me.