This Chair Is Uncomfortable, This Essay Is Not Writing Itself & The Monster Is Growing Impatient

I had to leave the apartment in order to finish this essay on the film-musical. How’s it going? The essay you mean? Well it’s going pretty much like a carrot in a blender: it’s making an angry growling noise and is mostly orange slush. The more pressing issue is the reason behind my vacation (written like that it looks like I have gone to the beach to write my essay…that would be terrible you idiot. Sand would get in my lap-top and every time I typed it would make that horribly crunchy sound my iPod click-wheel makes after I dropped into some pocket-sand accumulated one summer).

It started like any other Thursday, with the small contingent of the Russian Mafia upstairs ‘taking care of business’ (the laundry) on the balcony. This was followed by a truck being really noisy and a guy deciding that if he just put his fist into his steering wheel it would benefit the whole street by filling their lives with the sound of his car horn. Needless to say the Russians weren’t happy with this and went off to ‘take care of business’ (this time I mean murder). If you see a crash on the evening news keep an eye out for a rather oppressive looking gentlemen sporting a handsome yet distinctly Eastern European moustache. He borrowed our sugar once. It came back. Fine actually I’m not sure why I broke that up dramatically.

No my problems didn’t begin in the morning. In fakt things progressed from that point at the normal rate. Michaela ate muesli in order to gain some sort super power that has yet to manifest (fingers crossed it’s not the kind that makes one crazy and evil) and said goodbye to the blankets I was hiding out under. It’s a nice set-up that. I stay in bed under lots of blankets and she practices her voice projection skills by saying goodbye and waking me up. Although I usually just drift off again only to re-awaken fifteen minutes before I have to be anywhere.

But this morning that didn’t happen. Even Dan’s Guitar Hero-ing was met with wide awake eyes. I woke at 9am and….and I’m pretty sure I have secretly changed tense. I could go back and check which one I was using but this makes it more fun to see if I can pull the ship back (or rather pulled the ship backed).

Anyway my attempts to essay were met with many obstacles that may have seemed insurmountable to the untrained eye but I had my eyes closed due to getting a toast crumb in them so it didn’t matter what my tasks looked like. I tackled them with vigour. I did dishes…LIKE A BOSS. I emptied those two tupperware containers that had been in the fridge for only a little bit too long…LIKE A BOSS DISGUSTED BY THE SMELL OF RANCID SOUP AND CURRY WHICH ARE TWO THINGS I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW COULD GO RANCID AND NOW I’VE FALLEN INTO A PIT OF CAPITALS AND NOT EVEN GOOD ONES LIKE TOKYO OR MOSCOW BUT BAD ONES THAT MAKE ME LOOK LIKE I AM YELLING WHEN I’M NOT AND WHAT HAPPENED TO MY PUNCTUATION DID I DROP THAT IN THE SINK TOO? Nope. There it is.

Essay. Right. So I set about starting that essay (which I’d already started and just needed to finish but it was so poorly constructed that it was probably going to need a violent rewrite) when I heard that creak of doors that always made me nervous (I had been locked in a creaky door warehouse as a child once and was still suffering the after-affects…I’d definitely started writing in past tense…like a time-traveller). This creak was different because it was followed by the sound of shoes being eaten…

I slowly placed my laptop on floor and shuffled towards the kitchen. The shoe eating stopped. A sniffing invaded the awkward silence…Dan had a cold. I pressed a finger to my lips and waited. Suddenly the bedroom door burst open and there was the BEAST. It growled and started to talk like Tom Waits. I panicked like a bitch and grabbed my laptop and ran.

And here we are. Or here I am, sitting in a corner of the library surrounded by people doing real degrees, on a chair that can’t make up it’s mind whether it wants to sit too far back or too far forward but either way is making me hate ethnic food for some strange reason.

How’s it going? The essay? Well I’ve stopped to write this nonsense…so needless to say it has stalled in fourth. I should get back to it but for some reason I have accidentally found Jimmy Kimmel on YouTube (and by accidentally I mean I searched it). Whatever. Have a nice Thursday and if you see Serge from upstairs tell him we can do dinner on Tuesday.

Yours Indifferently, Treed.

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