esotericus

Valentine's Day began at 12:00 a.m. I was awake, having just realized what I could do to fill up my spare bedroom.

Well, before you fill a room, you gotta empty it out.



I was moving boxes into the living room when I clearly heard loud voices from the next apartment over. Damned if there weren't some hippies on the fire escape next door, smoking maybe two feet from my window. Their names were Frank and Kate.

Kate shyly asked if her and Frank could see my place, and I said sure.

"You're young," Kate blurted at one point, "And...attractive. And, uh" her eyes narrowed. "Single?"

I nodded.

"No oral herpes, right?" Frank asked.

I politely declined what I'm guessing was a Valentine's Day oral sex party (this Saturday), but did go with Frank and Kate to see their apartment across the street. Not a bad place! For lack of anything else to do, I helped them paint their kitchen last night.



Then, bored tonight, I rang the buzzer and waited, but the upstairs window opened instead of the door.

"Hey man." Frank sniffed. "I'm...having some problems. My friend's dead."

Jeezum Christ. Jesus Crow.

"I'm sorry," I said.

I ran back home to let him grieve in peace, and at about two this morning I went to the mail slot of their apartment and poked in some candy, a brief letter of condolence, a hacky sack, and a CD of Thomas Lynch's Bodies in Motion and at Rest,



Now, with my living room piled high with shit I don't need or want anymore, I sit and slowly blow up balloon after balloon.

I estimate that it will take 500-1000 balloons to fill my spare bedroom to the ceiling.

How weird can 72 hours be?

Oy, I'm going to sleep in the balloon room tonight. Sweet dreams, folks.

P.S. Don't tell Dinah that I have a big fat geeky crush on her. She'll be grossed out, dude.