number one hit song: I wanna see blood and gore and veins in my teeth

January 21, 2004

I wanna see blood and gore and veins in my teeth

Shit's been dull around these here parts due to an overwhelming influx of equal parts block and apathy. Also, I'm hitting one of those human distemper phases when I am easily angered. Easily angered to the point that I nearly attampted a haymaker on a man who was talking too loudly on his cell phone last night. Tryna eat a burrito in PEACE, you douche!

Then it's things like this that make me wanna stab all realtors in the eyes. Seriously.

Stab. Them. In. The. Eyes.

I know this Death to All Realtors is becoming somewhat of a hasty trope with me but my organs are failing from reading the CL apartment listings all day. I don't think that Saddam was this demoralized when they found him in his spider hole.

Also: This place? It's been on CL for months now. $895 for a one-bedroom in Williamsburg? Come now. That's reasonable. Why no renty?

I thought I'd hit a low point when, years back, I looked at that apartment on the south side that had 18 locks and a machete by the door, or that one on the northside that had religious murals that would frighten Bosch. And those places got rented right after I saw them! My brain was aswim in wonderment at the potential horrors this particular piece of real estate holds. Well, it turns out that not only is this particular apartment facing the BQE (which I guessed at, based on the address), it's located directly above a Halal chicken butcher.* If the smell doesn't get you, I can only assume the panoply of angry avian spirits will.

*A popular field trip spot for the local Catholic school, by the way.

Posted by Dana at 03:01 PM

I've actually lived in two different apartments, where, soon after moving in, we got knocks on the door from police searching for the previous tenants. In a third there were unexplained stains that looked like blood (and a 50+ year old German reader hidden in a closet with the handwritten epigram "Bless Who Finds This" [probably unconnected]). Then there was the worst place, in Florida where I lived below a guy who despite incessant guitar practice, seemed to only manage to learn one song: "Unforgiven."

Posted by: jonmc at January 21, 2004 03:40 PM

I once lived above a kosher butcher shop where many thousands of chickens met their tragic yet rabbinically sanctioned end, and I too wondered about the karmic circumstances. Which paled, it must be said, to the evil smells of rotting chicken entrails in the summer and the veritable torrents of bloodthirsty cockroaches that coursed through the dark spaces of the building all year long. Late at night, half-awake, I sometimes thought that I could hear the chicken souls ascending to their avian heaven. In retrospect, that sound was probably the rustling of millions of tiny brown feelers.

Posted by: j-go at January 22, 2004 09:39 AM