“In 1921, early suffragettes often donned a bathing suit and ate pizza in large groups to annoy men…it was a custom at the time”
I NEED TO DO THIS. LADIES, LET’S GO SIT ON THE CAPITOL STEPS IN SWIMSUITS AND EAT PIZZA.
I have a bikini for that.
I’m writing this here not because I want to draw attention to myself, but because I need some record that this actually happened so I don’t dismiss it later: I just narrowly avoided getting assaulted.
I was in a secluded area next to the park and this shady guy who had been staring at me creepily (murderously, really) followed me and then actually started running after me.
I’m not being paranoid. One look at him told me he meant business. I trusted my instincts, sprinted like a motherfucker to where there were people, and thankfully, got away in time.
Jesus Christ, that was scary. I need a drink.
Severe storms were kind enough to knock out our internet this week. I’m going on day 5 without my daily helping of high quality television drama, can you believe it? Withdrawal is a bitch. I’m drafting this on my phone, grumpily.
This place doesn’t feel like home anymore, and not just because of the lack of internet, although that really isn’t helping. What’s worse, though, is the way my apartment now floods every time it rains and the way my landlord either shrugs it off or gets defensive. (“It’s not that bad,” he helpfully informed me after the last incident, as though I don’t have the ability to judge water depth.) On the bright side, he’s so hell-bent on avoiding the issue that he hasn’t bothered to charge me rent in months.
On top of the flooding, there’s the fact that my ex works at my goddamn place of residence. He started helping my landlord out in the recording studio on the property after we split, and now he’s around on most days. Last month I made the long-overdue decision to essentially purge my life of his influence, and that was a very good thing, but it can be difficult when he’s physically here, when I always run the risk of bumping into him and occasionally do. It requires some primo mental jiu-jitsu to maintain balance and normalcy in the face of that, and I’m actually shocked by how well I’ve managed it. Still, it’s a fucked up situation and I need out.
The plan for my new digs involves musician friends and goes into effect in July. Until then, I’ll just have to make do with my mildewy, dark apartment and enjoy the free rent as best I can.