Sunday, October 31, 2010

"My House Wants to Kill Me"

Aw crap I've bashed myself again! Last time I nearly chopped one of my fingers off. This time I slipped, and banged my head against the wall, gouged my side against the bookcase, which thought about falling on me, but then decided not to bother.

Btw, I hit my head so hard on the way down I broke the closet door knob off.

I tried getting up, and slipped again this time landing on my forehead. Did I mention I have a toothache too. Yeah I have insurance, but it's very tiny,...for the tooth that is. Forget about the rest as in my banged up body, head in particular.

Ya know I think my house is trying to kill me.

Well at least it's thinking about it. After all the book case didn't fall on me,..but could have. I don't get why my place has it in for me. I mean I take such good care of it. I haven't crowded it with tons of useless junk or furniture.

In fact everyone sez how Zen the place is.

'Matter of fact the whole reason I slipped, twice, was because my floors are so well polished. I got kind of a fetish about that. Shiny floors. A holdover from when I was homeless. Btw I was able to photograph many dawns when I was wandering around out there. ...a small "upside".

From my year of wandering.

I was so happy to have digs of my own again I've gone into overdrive to keep it nice'n tidy.

So what's got my place so pissed at me that it would try to cut my finger off, then impale me, bash the back of my head then have a second go, and attack my face.

Wait I just remembered. I nearly fell out of the tub the other night. My foot got caught in the shower curtain,..could'a broke my neck.

....shit,..the place 'is' trying to kill me!

Might be restless spirits around. After all the building 'is' about 100 years old. Roman ruins by American standards. Everything here besides, the native temples, and pyramids. Everything here is less than three or four hundred years old.

Heavens sakes Europe, and Asia have latrines, and whore houses thousands of years older.

Humbling that.

Guys over there were taking dumps in warm comfy latrines, and getting laid in cat houses before the first European settlers came to the new world to die of yellow fever, starvation, Indians, or rigged card games.

There's Roman crappers still around from before they built the 2nd Avenue subway. Well okay they still ain't finished it. Did you know that alleged construction is coming up on it's centennial!

Yep they broke ground in the 1920's. In ten, fifteen years it'll be 100 years in the making. A record for corruption, and historic incompetence there somewhere.

My glossy though deadly floors.

Anyway so when I go home what will be waiting for me? Will a bleeping poisonous snake come up through the drain? Speaking of crappers will I get sucked out to sea when I flush? Perhaps get electrocuted when I try to cook hot dogs in the microwave.

Or am I just getting hyper behind a few simple household accidents.

We'll see.


Zaek said...

You're just getting hyper after some household accidents. Don't take it out on your apartment, which to judge from the photos looks really quite nice.

You might want to consider settling for a less glossy floor. If there's a floor wax that leaves some traction on a nice wooden parquet, that might be the thing to go with.

Also, have you considered taking Tai Chi or something like that? These incidents sound like they might be partly accidents of coordination and balance. The sense of balance is one of the things that age with us. It needs to be exercised. You don't want to wind up like one of those old folks who fall and break their hip and everything is fucked for them forever from then on. So I'd suggest taking up some easy, pleasant, non-strenuous coordination and balance-promoting exercise like Aikido or Tai Chi. Besides, it fits in so well with the Zen motif. Think how impressed your cat will be (or failing that, your dolls) to see you get up early each morning to perform the Deer Exercise.

I've noticed the benefits of this during periods in my life when I've worked out regularly. My coordination improved dramatically, to the point where I was noticing it all the time. 'Course I get the same effect from watching too many hours of live Michael Jackson videos. I now sometimes find myself spinning on my heel or the ball of my foot, and punching the air with a whoop. Not that I recommend this particularly.

Sion said...

Dear Sidney,

Yes, your house is evidently trying to kill you. The evidence is conclusive. I had a friend who had a house just like yours, and he died of it.

He came home one day, strolled into his living room, and found a noose hanging from the ceiling and a chair under it. Does one need a stronger hint than that? Then there was the way the wiring started re-arranging itself inside the plugs and sockets - it nearly blew his fingers off every time he switched on the electric kettle.

Pity, because your house looks like a nice place. But when a house turns really bad there's nothing you can do about it. (Well, I suppose you could try an exorcist.)

If you take my advice, you should get out of that deathtrap as quick as you can.

Have you considered a boathouse on the Hudson or a gypsy caravan?

Zaek said...

Well, as with medicine, it's often good to get a second opinion.

Anonymous said...

Greeting comreades. Thanks for the advice. Sion I've already been on the outside. Not fun. I'll take my chances inside.

That being the case.I had a talk with my rooms. Seems there's been a misunderstanding.

The place thinks I was dusting, and polishing so much because I was gonna sell her.

...and this after all she did to make me comfortable.

I told her my over primping was becaused I loved her so much, and so so happy to be with her.

I said I was sorry if I hurt her feelings.

She let me know that she's sorry she tried to kill me.

As a show of good faith the mold on my shower tiles disappeared.

Okay we're staring over as with all long term relationships.

Btw I ain't taking any chances. I'll polish the floors once a month for now on.


Bodmin said...

You might still want to call in somebody who knows feng shui for a look at the place (I mean, around the station there has got to be somebody who knows about it, or knows somebody who does!). There may be something about the layout of the apartment itself, or your placement of stuff may inadvertently be creating negative energy, and you might be able to remedy or correct it before it gets you mind to hallucinating about nooses or causing you to self-harm. It has nothing to do with the occult; it's all psychology. For instance, in my own case, the contradictions between sense data and mental expectations of trying to live in a place where the rooms are just enough out of square that the senses can perceive it but the mind, which expects 90 degree angles, can't admit it, was causing massive feelings of unease and discomfort - until I put in ceiling mouldings that were square and provided visual confirmation the rooms weren't square.

Uncle 2012 said...

You may have a point comrade Bodmin. In my case the flat is sagging along with the rest of the building.

You know how pre-war NYC apartment houses can be.

This one is about 100 years old.

When was Garfield President? This, and a few others around here are dedicated to him,..he was shot I think.

Anyway if you put a ball-bearing on the floor at one end of the digs it will roll out bedroom door through the hallway past the kitchen into the dining room, and bang against the wall of the next apartment.

It's something to do, and on slow nights this is what your esteemed editor is reduced to.

However the slant is only really noticeable in the dining room.

The whole world has seen my place since I've featured it in videos, and stills on this blog.

Go to my blog "Sydneyhaus" if you haven't seen it yet. on my Virgin Mary icon to find that, and my other semi-dead blogs.

Anyway maybe that's the deal. I'm living in a house that's like a sinking ship.

It would certainly explain why I keep falling over.

On the other hand maybe it's that I don't have much furniture or piles junk in the place.

By the snapshots you can see I never filled the place up,..and have no intention toeither.

Could that be it? Are we supposed to have a minimum amount of crap for the house to be happy?

It was easier being homeless. Back then all I had to worry about was dying of exposure or getting shot by racist cops or getting eaten by crackheads.

Did you hear about all them human bones they found in that abandoned crack house in Boston?

I swear we're living in the deleted scenes from a really, really creepy Fassbinder film.

Stay tuned.