When two cans of coke explode in your face in one week, you can look at that week in one of two ways:
1. Hey! Coke showers! Great week!
2. Someone's gunning for me. And his name is God.
The good news is that if I see someone with fistfulls of cash, I'm going to give them a big sticky coke-hug and walk away a richer woman. :)
Last night I went into city centre to visit an apartment in the centralist of locations, with a reasonable price tag at that. I should have known this place would be too good to be true. Situated between a meat market and a bar, as you slipped past the squeaky door you found yourself in a dark, musty entryway, packed full of a four-story, boxy plywood spiral staircase. As you climbed the rickity stairs (which rocked with your steps), you'd approach floor after floor, each one containing a moldy bedroom to one side and maybe a tiny crusty kitchen or damp dark tv room on the other side. It was horrific. The worst part was that as I toured, people were actually signing up to live here! The place was a chimney with a staircase through the middle--who could possibly lower themselves to that standard of living? I know the answer to that question, but only because I myself lived in one of Zaki Alawi's dens of ill repair...college kids. Like roaches, college kids can live just about anywhere.
So I recently wrapped up reading Khaled Hosseni's sophmore novel A Thousand Splendid Suns. This is a book definately worth reading, and I think Elisa, who read it with me, would say the same. It is warm, it is honest, it is a welcome refresher in forthright prose that leaves you wanting more. In fact, I'll be picking up Kite Runner later this week as a paycheck treat. Definately check this book out.
And lastly, before I go, I want to pay tribute to the total and unabashed lack of synthesis that this post boasts. In no way do these 3 anec dotes cohere. I am, as it were, the worst blogger in history.
Fine by me! See you tomorrow!
1. Hey! Coke showers! Great week!
2. Someone's gunning for me. And his name is God.
The good news is that if I see someone with fistfulls of cash, I'm going to give them a big sticky coke-hug and walk away a richer woman. :)
Last night I went into city centre to visit an apartment in the centralist of locations, with a reasonable price tag at that. I should have known this place would be too good to be true. Situated between a meat market and a bar, as you slipped past the squeaky door you found yourself in a dark, musty entryway, packed full of a four-story, boxy plywood spiral staircase. As you climbed the rickity stairs (which rocked with your steps), you'd approach floor after floor, each one containing a moldy bedroom to one side and maybe a tiny crusty kitchen or damp dark tv room on the other side. It was horrific. The worst part was that as I toured, people were actually signing up to live here! The place was a chimney with a staircase through the middle--who could possibly lower themselves to that standard of living? I know the answer to that question, but only because I myself lived in one of Zaki Alawi's dens of ill repair...college kids. Like roaches, college kids can live just about anywhere.
So I recently wrapped up reading Khaled Hosseni's sophmore novel A Thousand Splendid Suns. This is a book definately worth reading, and I think Elisa, who read it with me, would say the same. It is warm, it is honest, it is a welcome refresher in forthright prose that leaves you wanting more. In fact, I'll be picking up Kite Runner later this week as a paycheck treat. Definately check this book out.
And lastly, before I go, I want to pay tribute to the total and unabashed lack of synthesis that this post boasts. In no way do these 3 anec dotes cohere. I am, as it were, the worst blogger in history.
Fine by me! See you tomorrow!
sounds like there should have been a kreacher living there yelling at all the mudbloods walking through. oh and i'm going with 2.
ReplyDeletestart taping all the lids of your pop cans, someone's after you.