Morning.

There is a "Discovery Channel" in the corner of my kitchen.

The spider, (A faux-daddylonglegs) has grown in girth and gained an edge in the natural selection of my studio apartment, due to my constant nourishment of wounded, swatted, flies.I have no television so, this is as close as I get to "The Discovery Channel." 

My possessions are few... 

-One air mattress with motor. 

-One Dual-cassette radio. 

-Sixteen compilation tapes. (Each with it’s own theme) 

-One large painting removed from neighbor's trash. 

-Two thrift store furniture chairs with high backs. 
-Two milk crates with one long board that functions as a coffee table. 

-One/third of a 12-pack of Mexican beer. 

-One deck of playing cards (nude women). 

I've named my favorite cards/girls. 

One I call "Naked Baby." 

One I call "Sucking Finger." 

One I call "and never the bride."

Alex Delarge stares at me through his one eye mascara from a poster on the wall. 

This is my life out here.

I rise.

I buy the newspaper from a machine across the street, while coffee brews.

I read the news.

I drink the coffee.

I play three games of solitaire with the girls.

Then, after ridding the flat of all detectable flies with a swatter I've named "Death from Above," I dress myself and set out to complete errands I've created for myself to pass the time. 

Today I hope to transform the coffee table into a shelf.

Later.

I return from the hardware store w/ the mounts and attempt to attach them to the wall. 

But, the wall is plaster and I only succeed in punching large holes in it.

Thus, subtracting some cash from my deposit. A fly makes his appearance in the flat. 

"Death from Above" makes its kill with a mid-air swat as the fly obviously prepared for attack. 

It wasn't a kill. The pest is merely wounded. I feed him to the spider, whom I have noticed now has a neighbor. Another faux-daddylonglegs has moved in directly above.

I watch my private "Wild Discovery."

The arachnid wraps it’s fly in a silky package and stores him away for later.

Work

My job awaits me in the afternoon. I used to dread work. Here, it is my only social outlet. I'm happy to attend.

A lady in my life would not be pushed away.

I've nothing better to do than devote myself to someone. 

I've even lowered my standards some degree, considered bedding all sorts of types I normally wouldn't ( but that is another story).

I decide to masturbate. 

Which I do to the mags I buy from the porn merchant up the street.

The porn slinger is bitter. 

He has a strict set of rules he enforces at his used magazine shop.

He doesn't only sell porn. 

He sells old issues of National Geographic, Life, People and others.

But for every person in the periodicals, there are three behind the duct tape line, perusing the porn. 

One of them is me. 

The porn slinger is bitter because after a lifetime serving his country he settled down to open a used magazine shop which ultimately became a smut market. 

His breath stinks. 

For some reason, he confides in me. 

On more than one occasion I've seen him having a conversation with a customer. 

Then, after said customer has gone, bitch to me about what the guy just said. 

I just nod or shake my head.

All I'm thinking about is "Celebrity Skin". 

Back at the crib, I prepare for another interesting night in my interesting life. 

Ever read Burroughs while taking a shit? 

It's bizarre. 

I want a chick... 

Sunday. 


After a day of smokin’ and boozin’ at the zoo, I devour all the ribs I can eat with my Yankee friend then return to my studio for the duration of the night. 

Stoned, drunk and naked, I collapse on my frameless bed. 

It's hot.

Talk radio is my only form of media. 

Art Bell plays on AM radio in my bathroom.

Reverberating off the tile to create a short echo.

He has replaced the X-files on Sunday nights. 

I drift off to sleep.

Art continues his dialogue... But, it's distorted, contorted. 

Between the drugs, heat and sleep... It’s haunting... Art's Voice... 

9:15 

"West of the Rockies, you’re on the air with Art Bell...' 

9:35 

"So you saw the objects in three places in the sky at once?" 

10:27 

"It is being widely reported that..." 

10:56 

"You observed this from the top of the mountain, correct?" 

12:18 

"The nations power supply will be greatly affected" 

1:59 

"The president will resign..." 

3:23 

"I will not be continuing my broadcasts due to forces beyond my control" 

Madness...

Monday.

How will I occupy my time on a Monday off? 

Who knows. 

Maybe I'll search for a chick in the coffeehouses up the road. 

Who am I kidding? 

I don't talk to those girls.

I check on "The Discovery Channel." 

My spider has committed a hostile takeover. 

The spider that moved in above him has now been wrapped in silk and sucked dry.

I feel like a proud father. 

An acquaintance calls me up, "Wanna go out with us tonight?" 

I have not been out in ages, my tolerance is low and my social skills are bound to be inept. 

"Sure" I tell him. 

"Pick ya up around 9:00" 

Maybe I'll meet a nice girl. 

Someone to emancipate me from my meager existence in this little apartment.

I hope my spider won't be too jealous...