Roof Living

After months of being closed, the roof to the apartment is now reopened and accessible to the residents and me. The patio has been reduced in area by about 50%, and the guard rails are now man-height. It's strange to be in a people zoo at this height, but I can understand their reasoning.

With all the drunken yay-hoos I brought around falling over the old guards and peeing here and there when I wasn't around to mace some sense into them, I can understand why they put me in a little pen so high up with the view of the horizon obscured save for United Crushers across the river.

I think it may be a threat.

This is also the only place I can get invisible internet from, and bugs are on my screen trying to read what I wrote.

I feel sorry for the mayfly that spends this considerable percentage of its life reading what I write. The more interesting things are written on actual paper in my little notebook under the bag of peanuts in my Samsonite carry-on at my feet. I've written down a list of potentially interesting and wonderful enterprises to partake in.

That's most of what I do in moments of inspiration: Write notebooks full of lists, outlines, and strange plans.

There are some good ideas hiding in there.