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dead on the street life
A neighbor down the street died.
By the smell of it he died in his apartment and no one found out for awhile. All the windows and doors were open.
The landlord had moved all the guy's stuff into the street and was hauling it to the dump.
My husband found a guitar from 1947. It needs a little work, but he is happy to have a project. I got a few 5 gallon planting containers. The guy always had a ton of containers in front of his apartment and grew food in them. He had lived there at least as long as we have lived here. At least ten years. His place was on the way to downtown, and my job.
Kinda freaked me out. That no one ever came to check on him. The landlord probably finally decided he was going to see why the rent had been late for a few months. Otherwise the guy would still be rotting in there. No friends. No family. At least none that the landlord knew of. And I saw everything that made him �him� in garbage bags on the street and I thought to myself:
This is me.
This is pretty much what it will be like for me.
I have no friends.
By the time I'm dead I will have no family left since I am �the baby�. Not like they would even know if I died now. Haven't spoken to them all in over a decade.
All my artwork and belongings. Even my clothes. Junk in the earth.
I would like to think I will be eaten by wild animals. That's a good way to die.
But more than likely I will be that guy.
The only reason anyone will even stop to think about me is because a payment is late.
4:21 PM - Tuesday, Jun. 10, 2014
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