npc diaries

 that's what these poems are

these posts into the wild eyed void

$

nostalgia is the past appearing

real. unchanged. domains retaining

original servers and addresses. 

but movement times on.

a standing wave collapses eventually

forgive me but i'm stoned

which always gets me in an infinite mood

wanting to spoil secrets of the universe

yeast to kim chi

the observer influences the results

witness creates reality

and then you mop the really

 dirty floor it takes about 7 minutes. 

linoleum is a beautyful thing

to clean. even when warped by the ice-

maker leak a month after move in-

16 yrs later it's still holding together

like so much of this place 

 with gorilla tape and good enuf.

the fridge  has been twice replaced.

time is not on my side. 

here comes a junk man. i hope he stops for the ladder

we've put on the street but no

his skiff is full and tarp covered

the ladder will remain. i also have a half

working frig and non working washer

i'd like to have gone. what am i meant to do 

with this broken baggage? pay for its removal?

how do i get a pc to come by 

so it fits into some story god's watching? 

biblical angels with 360 degree eye ribbons

feeding their every move to the observer, following

the fates of the fridge, the ladder, the washer while

 the npc goes background, low res. 

so how you got bandwidth to record even a diary?

dark matter baby. iykyk.

cigarette break. battery not charged on the pc yet.

it's not like this is a chat but i gotta remind myself

&

so that turned into pseudo heatstroke

it's 204 dst, meaning one oclock burns

and i was out in that hosing off an old poly

vynyl trellis to move it outside to inside

hopefully to protect the just installed screen

from scooters and bicycles. also privacy.

it was bright, it was 80F and sunny

i was blinded . had to come in and lay down

like a gramma. eat club crackers and cottage cheese

pop of coca cola. ice cold.

*

i'm beat. that was like 2 hours of productivity at home

why am thinking of that at fucking home like why

do i have to be productive? 

i gorilla taped the extension cord and power strip

to the underside of the medicine cabinet 

so the new exhaust fan can be used . 

i put my wash in the dryer.

i cleaned the crud off the toothbrush charger.

have another damn cigarette.

*

i mean i feel like i'm playing

**

the sheets want changing

finish washing the trellis

vacuum in my room

which never gets clean tto my newly

minimalist desires. i think it comes

from living with a hoarder. i thought i was bad

keeping 7 years receipts for pier one credit card

but this man takes the cake. i don't even 

wanna do any housework because

he and hhis son mess it up again.

don't know the last time he did the floors but

he does dishes. he cooks does his own and kid 

laundry and leaves it around in clean piles

\like a squirrel storing food. 

i dunno. could be worse.

for sure.

but it's not the stories of players ya know?

not an ig worthy life or anything

nothing to x about. 

full of tiny frustations passive

resentment agressive daydreams

mostly about the end these days

a sense of rest beyond the veil?

i dunno, not high anymore. 

just co existing, say a prayer.