The Center Of Our Existence in 2008
June 3, 2008
Written by Laurel · Filed Under guest
Comments
Got something to say?
Featured Article:
Somebody in my House-
Read Some Other Articles:
- Okay, Bitches, Order Some Pants
- The Jazz GigToilet Bowl
- Boy does the truth hurt
- LOOSE MARBLES
- thank you global warming (lyrics)
- Bridport, Vermont Skyline at Night
- Camp Casey becomes Insane Asylum
- Fat Britches for Slender Bitches
- His Room.
- Where is my LIFE???
- Seductive Sun
- The Novel That Won't Go Away
- Howard, the $10,000 Dog
- Family Reunion Non-Violent
- Buddy, Dawn, Howard, Me.
Laurel's Recurring Themes
ADHD art artist audience band buddy cianci cabaret cheap christmas craving spotlight dancing death despair destiny family father food generosity grief Howard Irish jazz Kitty Litter LaLa marriage money mother New Orleans newport out of my mind pants rags recession retreat sarasota satire self-help skiing sue lamond sun time Vermont winter writing yoga retreat
Browse Articles by Type
-
Links
- Hungry Artists - Support for artists.
-
Meta

There is somebody in my house in Vermont. A nice man is renting my house and I am thrilled because that man is renting my house and sending me money so that I can rent an apartment in Providence. Now, wait a minute. Does this make sense? I thought so, a few weeks ago, when I was working here, singing, planning, organizing, hob-knobbing, but as of today, as I lugged a bunch of my crap up two flights of stairs on the East Side, all the while knowing I would have to lug the crap back down the two flights of stairs a few months from now— as of today, I thought to myself, “Gee, I don’t feel very good in my head” I sat on the stairs, dirty stairs, very dirty, and considered my situation. I blamed the town of Bridport , Vermont, for not having a Dunkin Donut’s or a Cafe, a bar or a nightclub, a college, tennis courts, health club, movie theater. Then I blamed myself for wanting those things. Then I blamed myself for having those things here in Providence and not taking advantage of them because I like staying home and reading in bed. Now, if I like staying home and reading in bed, why don’t I just move back to my own home, in Bridport, and wait out the winter with Charles Dickens and Mark Twain? Now that I have rented my house, I miss it. It is not available. That is why I was so sad today, moving into what I thought was a nice apartment on the East Side. It is somebody elses house and always will be, no matter how many knick knacks, rugs, paintings, books, personal items I stuff into it. Renting makes me feel insecure, more insecure than worrying about how to pay my property tax. It’s silly, because none of us own anything fully. Still, sombody is in MY house and i am in somebody else’s house, and it’s ridiculous in a way that I can’t quite comprehend and it is making me very very sad.