h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

heh. so much for my inner buddha. it'll be reincarnated one day, I have faith. like a phoenix, from the ashes

just for the moment, just for today

RAGE, VIOLENCE and DESTRUCTIVE IMPULSES. I wish I had the liberty of humongous, glowing, flaming, clawing, tearing text for this one journal.

Huge, ugly, sanity-rending sound

closer. NIN

dolby. it goes into the fabric of your entire meager existence.

I'm a danger to self and others, maybe.

probably not.

If I can press this fury outward enough, without taking action, it'll be ok. I'll be spent.

BUT
don't come any closer

remember the Tsunami?
remember the pictures of 911?
remember the GODFORSAKENSTUPIDITY of 'shock and awe'?

that's all in me today. embedded with a nugget of unmaintainable evil.

my boundaries are made of flapping plastic, rent with holes

i do not need a direction of flow, so don't let anyone give me one, please god. heh Funny prayer for a buddhist, right?


this morning I couldn't control the tears
no tears left
but my right eye won't stop twitching
and I'm wondering if I might have some kinda stroke or something
probably no such release available

this is the antithesis of creative energy
just as compelling
yin
yang
head stretching, brain quivering on the edge of implode

dark energy

if I look at it in my mind's eye it's a whirlpool of red and putrescent green, the color of life thwarted,dismembered,rotting

and black

i remember the other stuff, from a place outside my Now. that stuff flings outwards, the colors are in-lighted wonderment.

another day

it's new territory today

iwannafuckyoulikeananimalskeweryourgutsonaglowingrighteousspearoforder

for art. heh

iletyoucomplicatemedesecratemeconsecratemeviolateme

gotnosoultosell
theonlythingthatworksformeis
LET ME GET AWAY FROM MYSELF

my whole existence is gone

violate
desecrate
penetrate
complicate

help me

you bring me closer to god

youcanhavemyisolation
youcanhavethehatethatitbrings
youcanhavemyabseneceoffaith
youcanhavemyeverything

help me
to tear down my reason
youmakemeperfectessentialannihilated
help me think I'm somebody else

I'm not having a good day.

A disturbing, but yet good read. Did you spend all the words? I cannot find any.

One of the things I enjoy most, when I'm feeling down, is looking at that picture you made of me as Venus de Milo.

I swear, looking at it makes me feel like a goddess.

I have a photo of you in my h2g2 friends folder and I'm sending you as much love as I can, dear heart.

to both of you!

I'm currently in the middle of cider-numbed cold anger, playing Transsiberian Orchestra's last year xmas CD at max level to drown out the sound of destruction that has been pounding on me since my birthday, Oct2. It's not *such* a bad day, I haven't hurt anyone yet. But the sun is not down, no promises, merely Hope.

This journal is about
1) despair and destruction
2) the effect of human STUPIDITY and mismanagement (with oooooh such good intention) on one person's life
3) and it's about processing the total annihilation I feel like directing towards the inept, irresponsible, negligent, mind-bogglingly, gob-smackingly DENSE forkwits who destroy people's lives in order to implement their own GAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaa-there's-no-word-to-encompass-how-disruptive ideas of'progress'.

And, if I put it here it's a pretty sure bet I'll expend the energy that would otherwise possibly be spent on finding addresses, refreshing my memory on how to make small-but-effective explosives, or attaching a monsterous-huge piece of steel to the front of my truck and seeing just how much demolition *I* can do to this place before the cops haul me away.

I'm having a disagreement with my landlord on what is and isn't reasonable 'improvement', and what is and isn't a reasonable expectation of 'privacy and quiet' I had right to when I rented this place for home and art studio. Can ya tell?

GB, I ran through all the standard modes of redirecting my mind to happy-happy-land by Labor Day, when my whole place was dug up and filthy and I had to cancel all plans for visitors because the place was a goddam health hazard.

*ahem*

Enter At Own Risk.

Yell and scream all you want hun.
I'll still be here to you and feed you mince pies and fresh

I have an inkling of what you're going through because my (attached) neighbours are having their rear extended.

The scaffolding is on my property and they did come round with a large tin of Celebrations, and a Christmas card and said sorry for all the noise.

Maybe if I hadn't just lost my father I'd be less tolerant, but my spirit is so low right now nothing could phase me. Bring it on.

BTW I think you're wonderful.

This one has been building for the past few weeks now, time to let'er rip.

Um, yes, I *do* realize that my trials are negligible, inconsequential, in terms of the comparisons I'm going to make. But I'll tell ya what else: I can now TOTALLY empathasize with people who've chosen the path of 'insurgency', no matter how pointless the extension of violence is. Because when you push a person too much, when they build--and someone tears their efforts down--over and over again, somehow it just doesn't make *sense* to keep on building, making yourself a target. And when someone has (or believes they have, or *feels* like they have) nothing left to lose, well, VENGEANCE develops a mighty fiiiine fragrance amidst the rest of the effluvium, even if it *does* go against everything you've always held sacred-to-who-you-are. I guess being humane really *is* a rare and delicate condition, easily dispelled. I hadn't thought that before, by the way. I kinda had this idea that people really are inherently decent. Silly me.

*tiptoes in, leaves a pot of fresh coffee and a large bunch of MoG's favourite flowers

(Did you know that I think about you most mornings when putting on my eye-liner?)

Maybe buddha has stepped aside in favour of Kali? She's the one who eats negativity like chocolate, and gives us the capacity for the immensest of rages without self-destructing.

I'm in awe of your first post.

I get that place of understanding directly why people choose the violently inusurgent paths.

I still think of people as basically decent, despite it all. I'm not sure if that makes me exceptionally silly or not I suspect it's a survival mechanism (or maybe the decency perception gene ). It does still get me into trouble sometimes.


It's good to hear your voice about it all

kea.

So. I came. I saw this weird place. http://public.fotki.com/BrittaMoG/crescent-lake-apart/ (pics 1-5 from the Crescent Lake Apartment website)They *told* me it would take a 'special' person to live here. Well, I liked it. Loads of foliage, a jungle-oasis in the middle of a place where I was protected, nobody would even know I was in there if I didn't tell them. I could have my living room, dining room and studio on the patio and it was built securely enough that even a tropical depression didn't make it leak. (I checked before I agreed to take it.) It had Paradise potential. I could *make* details like a closet for my clothes, I could hang strategic shelving for my beloved things I've collected over the years, I was able to figure out ways to organize a kitchen without any drawers. Anyway, with my grill and crockpot and electric skillet out on the patio part I didn't even need to cook inside and stink up my bedroom and clothing, right? Yeah. All it took was money. I'd saved a bit, just so I could move and set up housekeeping. No prob. I *loved* my semi-permeable environment, my garden (and how much pleasure I took in adding all the flowers!) After 2 weeks non-stop fixing-up, it was beautiful, I'd made it the place I could work in, have peace of mind, make stories and illustrations and photos and all the stuff I'd been preparing myself to redirect my career into. (pics 6-26)

So, it turns out the place attached in front had a plumbing problem. And they'd have to come through my place a couple times to fix it. No big deal, the plumbers were nice, they didn't leave a mess. I can accomodate that. Just made sure I was dressed before they arrived.

I invited some friends to come visit July 22-23. They met me when I arrived home from work on the Saturday. We came in to my place. Well, a *new* set of plumbers had come because the place in front had sewage backing up into the bathtub. Since the manager on duty wasn't available to let them in, they decided to break into my property through the back gate. They redug the hole in front of the patio door, but couldn't be bothered to fill it back in or replace the pavers. Niiiiice. That hole in front of the door stayed open til September, btw. I complained to the management, they agreed that nobody should be breaking into my place. The manager in charge that weekend was *supposed* to let them in through my door, like normal non-criminals. Apparently she wasn't available, so the plumbers got creative. ho hum.

Around that time I became pretty certain that Ugly Mole was cancer. I was edgy. The last week of July they dug a trench along the west side of my place, piled the dirt in the northwest corner of my garden. Now I couldn't park inside my fence. Oh well, it was temporary, right? The people up front couldn't be expected to live with shit backing into their bathtub. And meanwhile, it turned out that the front place had a severe termite problem. I'd have to evacuate for a while, bag all my foodstuff, find a place for my cat and for me. They told me they'd prorate my rent for the couple days I had to leave, but that they wouldn't pay for lodging. They offered to keep the cat in the office. I made arrangements to stay at my friend's place in Tampa. They came and 'trimmed back' the beautiful trees and bamboo and plants that made this place such a wonder. heh. They cut virtually every living thing to stumps in the ground. It was hideous. It was HOT with no shade on my place. Privacy was gone.

End of July I asked the management to *please* get all the disruptive stuff done at once so I could have some peace to get my art stuff ready to market for season. That's *why* I hardly accepted any work during August, so I could focus on building another career. I'd planned that part of it all before I moved. I also became really concerned at that time that treatment for cancer might involve disfiguring things that would make me unable to continue to work as a makeup artist, so it was doubly urgent I be able to work on my art. By that I meant I was expecting to move back into my place after the termiting project and be left alone. The lady living in the attached hellhole moved out. Welllll, it turned out that the owner had taken off for a month in Europe. And the plumbing project was waaaaaay more involved than they'd anticipated when they dug up my yard, so they were content to let it sit until he came home in the beginning of September because it was too difficult to maintain steady contact with him and much more expensive than he'd anticipated.

Um....NOOOOOOOOOO! I'd already invited people to come visit for a Labor Day Barbecue. It was kinda last chance before the Big Surgery. I was an emotional wreck by that time between the dirt and the cancer. I NEEDED to be around friends, people who knew me and gave a damn about me. So they set poor Jake and one lil plumbing digger to digging up the *rest* of my yard. In August. In Florida. When you can pretty much count on a thunderstorm every afternoon. So, every morning Jake and the other kid came at 9am to dig. And every afternoon the rain came and washed all the mud back into their holes. I'd hustle to get clothed in the morning, tell the fellas g'bye, go to work when I was working and come home when they were still waist-deep in the mudholes again in the late afternoons. It was like having roommates in a glass house. It was sick. Those poor guys must have felt condemned to Hell. It was stinking hot, even sitting on my patio in the evening with a mojito, much less in the Pits. And nobody took any interest in the suggestion that, if they'd get a *team* of people in there, they could swoop in and get it finished in a day. (It wasn't that big, really, just my entire yard. My yard isn't spacious.) But Noooooooo. Too much labor cost, I guess. Better to keep those guys in the Pit for all eternity if need be. (pics 24-49 were taken Labor Day weekend)

Anyway, the first surgery got infected. The plumber kid told me that the pipes had been broken and leaking unmentionable stuff for ages, it was all through the dirt they'd turned up, that's what the pervasive smell of raw sewage was about. I went into a panic when the second surgery was finally scheduled for SEP 12, told the management that they *had* to have the stuff finished and my place cleaned in advance of the surgery. I was afraid I might come home to this wide-open place (inside my fences there's no privacy at all) with drains sticking out of my armpit and unable to even clothe myself, and gangs of workers traipsing through to see me in all my post-surgical glory, and whatever kind of diseasa-laden debris coating everything and coming in through my A/C. It wasn't until I threatened to call in the health department and mentioned that it's raw sewage that causes diseases like cholera and dysentery that decisive action was finally taken and they finished rebuilding the yard the weekend before I was due in the hospital. I spent my last day before surgery cleaning the inside of my place while the manager cleaned the patio. That's not how I recommend anyone spend their last day before being laid up for a while.

Anyway, midseptember, and I thoiught I *finally* had some peace. I expected to get back on track with my plans as soon as I was healed enough. I thought that it had been a nightmarish few months, but that it was over.

heh.

Oct2. My birthday. Happy birthday to me, right? I had good reason to celebrate. So did the owner, apparently. That was the morning he started the knocking down of walls in the adjoining place. And there were cement trucks grinding away. New floor. I couldn't even hear to take phone calls. I lost it. Again. Anyway, all of October and November were spent dreading the intermittent beating-on-walls that went on most days of the week. My parents visited, just one day, the first time they've been to my place in 8 or 9 years. I had to beg that we not have wall-banging on that day. The owner told me he wouldn't. Guess what? Wall banging commenced (they were trying to put in ductwork for the new central heating A/C. They stopped when I asked, but.....holy shit. Should I have to schedule *every* visitor I want to entertain amidst their incessant destruction?

Nov 18: John and Carolanne came to visit, another waiting-for-me when I got off work, spend the night, breakfast and then bikeride through downtown, the Pier, art show at the Colliseum. Cool, eh? Guess what? That Sunday morning, not even 9 am, scraping and rubble-moving noises from that goddamned pit of demons. A handyman they sometimes employ decided that early Sunday morning was a good time to empty the place of cement. I could have KILLED him.

So now my roof is off. In October when I learned that they'd be reroofing next door I asked the owner how it would affect my life. Well, not at all. Except for the noise, of course. They weren't going to do anything to the roof over my part of the place. ok. I told him I'm working outside the house 6 days/week during December, that would be a good time to do it. No prob.

Dec 3 he decided to tell me, when I asked about it, that they actually *are* going to reroof my side, and that it would involve totally removing the ceiling from the area I use as dining room and my studio. Also that I'm going to lose the height on my patio and ventilation on 2 sides. It'll be dark with a tiled roof. He agreed to install a ceiling fan and lighting. Guess that's the best I can do. He's also not going to charge me rent for the month of December as compensation for the two weeks 'inconvenience' he's puting me through. You know what? My rent had already been sucked out through the automatic withdrawal system they insist on. So sure, I won't pay rent january. Well, BIG FORKING DEAL! I am not a crack whore. I PLAN to pay my rent, in full, on time, every month. Imagine that! ALL I WANT IS SOME PEACE SO I CAN WORK, MY PRIVACY WITHOUT TEAMS OF WORKERS BEATING ON THE WALLS AND RUNNING THROUGH MY PLACE AT 8:30 AM EVERY DAY, AND TO NOT HAVE MY HOME TORN UP BECAUSE ANOTHER RENTAL UNIT HAS PROBLEMS EVERY SECOND MONTH. Is that so much to expect? And of course, that two week initial estimate of inconvenience has already expired, we're looking well into January now.

Meanwhile,

What about all my stuff? What about my furniture, my books, tools, pillows, knick-knacks EVERYTHING? What about the christmas tree I'd set up, all the lights I'd draped so prettily over the rafters? What would happen with all the sawdust and roofing debris? My furniture is upholstered furniture, not plastic, hoseable patio stuff.

Well, he agreed to frame in a portion of my living space with plastic to protect my stuff from dirt. I agreed that I'd park outside rather than in my garage, and they could put the dining table and some of my furniture in there for the two weeks this project was to take. I made it INTENSELY clear that I'm expecting 3 seperate guests between xmas and New Years, people who weren't able to come because of the labor day fiasco and another friend. I made it INTENSELY clear that destroying yet another holiday plan for me due to his destruction projects was NOT ACCEPTABLE. I've already lost enough because of his 'home improvements'. And my furniture is not meant to stay in the garage for much longer, either. The dirt is everywhere, the plastic is only keeping the big chunks out.

I had a small jambalaya party Dec 3, had been looking very much forward to having people in now the weather is so fine and my place had *finally* gotten back to order. Dec-Feb are truly the months we treasure here. My flowers and crops were doing beautifully. It was a place that people walked into and exclaimed how nice it was, how comfortable it felt to be there.(pics 50-61)

So. Work was to begin on the 6th. The stapled plasic up, made a total mess of my place, left it like a dumpster. They tore apart the brick bordering wall I'd built around my garden (to replace the beams they threw away after the termiting) and used the bricks to weigh down the plastic. Guess what? The staples tore through the plastic the first day when the wind blew. Imagine that! Who'd a think it? The plastic whapped for 2 days and nights. I didn't sleep more than a few minutes at a time. I was working some big events, 11 hour days on my feet nonstop. Guess who was a total bitch at work after the second night of that stupidity? So I left some pretty...bitter would be a gentle term... explicit messages with the management about exactly HOW a goddamn MAKEUP ARTIST would 'frame in' plastic. And it involves...get this: WOODEN FRAMES! NOT STAPLES AND BRICKS. Weeeeellllll, whack me nekkid and hide my clothes! What kinda professional destruction expert in charge of TOTALLY REBUILDING A PLACE FROM THE GROUND UP WHILE SOMEONE IS LIVING THERE *AND* PAYING FULL RENT would come up with a novel idea like that? Not one in charge of this project, that's for sure.

Bitter? Angry? SPITTING TOXIC VENOM LIKE THAT CREATURE IN 'ALIEN'?

Yep, that would be me, bout now.

But wait! It gets even better!

They put me in that stupid, noisy condom and then decided, in their ultimate wisdom, that work would not commence in my part until the other side was done. It needs windows installed where none had been before, more wall-banging, and then they'd begin to figure out how to turn an existing three-tiered roof into a level roof. Given all that, who could begin to *guess* when they'd actually make their way over to my side? Not them, that's for sure. So I went ballistic. Surprised? By this time I can *hear* the manager cringing when she bothers to answer the phone, if it's me on caller ID. I wonder why that is? So, get this: in order to make me happy, to make me feel that Progress is happening, they came and took the roof off my place. AWESOME! Bring it on! What could POSSIBLY feel more like 'progress' than destruction (that now lets the rain in) with no clear idea when reCONstruction will take place? What kinda ingrate am I for not showing proper appreciation for all their effort?

I come 'home' from work one night, there's a new guy still packing his tools into his car. It's late. "WOW!" I'm thinking. "They must have *finally* gotten it that it'll take more than one guy beating on a wall for all eternity to get this project finished. I'm impressed!" so I say "Hi." and walk into my place. And....get this!!!!!!! It's been 'improved'!!!!!! I have a brand, spanking-new SKYLIGHT over what's now my new plastic-sheathed 'foyer' and.... even MORE special it's an open-air skylight! O joy! After all, it's not *supposed* to rain, so there won't be any wind to blow the doors open to the closets that HOUSE MY GODDAMNED TOOLS AND PAINTS AND EVERYTHING I WORK WITH, right? gee. I don't know what came over me. I went and ranted, gently. The guy was quite nice about it, once I dragged him back to show him what I was talking about. He agreed that it was FORKING STUPID. He got his ladder back out of his car, went back on the roof and put a couple sheets of plywood over the hole. Problem solved. HOW GODDAM DIFFICULT WAS THAT? WHYYYYYYYYYYY didn't anyone responsible for overseeing this catastrophe *think* about that before leaving for the evening?

It has been an ongoing torture of STUPID, a Chinese water torture of STUPID that I'm up against here. Though I don't *like* the disruption, I am willing to accept that the owner was STUPID when he bought this crumbling place with no inspection. I'm willing to accept that he needs to fix it, because nobody, but NOBODY other than crackwhores, people in total desperation or cave-dwelling trolls would have moved into the other side, as it was. I'm willing to deal with him Getting Things Done. Quickly. Effectively. NON-INVASIVELY! BUT THE STUPIDITY, the LACK OF FORESIGHT, the UTTER, INCONCIEVABLE lack of anything even REMOTELY resembling common sense that has plagued my existence through this comedy of errors.....


GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

Ach. Trailing off into Rantland, and I'm not even finished with the Facts, to date. tsk tsk

*ahem*

Facts:

New 'plan' for 'completion (and we won't even go INTO the slippery terminology the owner started using last night when I asked him about 'completion date'. heh. Remember Bill Clinton when he was impeached for *not* having had sex with that woman? Well, compared to Micheal, he was direct and forthcoming.) Anyway, current Plan:

Nope, it shall definitely NOT be finished before xmas, much less in the originally forecast two weeks (barring monsoons). HOWEVER:

(and I think I was supposed to drop to my knees and suck...lollipops, yeah, that's it, in GRATITUDE for this boon):

he gave me his Word, his Promise
that by this Friday Night, the 23rd, I shall have a leakproof, sealed-in roof.

and, not only that!!!!!!
My place will be cleaned, and vacuumed and dusted, my stuff put back as I had it, and fit to accomodate my beloved friend whose AIDS has left him no--zero--zilch immune system whatsoever when he arrives on xmas eve.

naturally, I told him I have taken pics and will print glossy 8x10s that I just happen to have taken the day before this phase of the destruction began.

Why am I not feeling confident? (pics 62-78)

It seems that he's ever-so-generously giving me "the week off" between xmas and New years, which, of course is part of *why* there's no predicting when this mess will be complete. Couldn't---nah, just COULDN'T have anything whatsoever to do with the FACT that they're STILL trying to figure out what they're doing as they're going along, and have Big Ideas, but no definite Plan. Could it?

Nah, I'm acting like an unpatriotic librul to even *suggest* that those In Control have no clear plan regarding the wiping of their own personal asses, much less......(rant rant rant) anything else.

There is also now a huge hole over my front door, so any of the crack addicts that hang out at the motel on the corner can decide to come visit if they want to.

And lastly, though I have been irritating even myself with the incessant repetition since early October that

I WILL BE HOME WORKING ON MY STUFF DURING THE MONTHS OF JANUARY AND FEBRUARY. THIS IS MY LAST CHANCE TO TRY TO EARN THE MONEY THAT WILL ALLOW ME TO SURVIVE THROUGH THE SLOW SUMMER SEASON. I HAVE NO SAVINGS LEFT. IT IS NOT OPTIONAL. I *NEED* PEACE AND QUIET TO FOCUS ON CREATIVE WORK. GET YOUR PROJECTS ****D**O**N**E**** BEFORE THEN.

heh.

whenever they've finished the roofing, they'll be laying hard wood floors.

bang bang bang.

Do ya think Maxwell's Hammer just *might* end up planted in somebody's skull? Accidentally, of course.

You *know* your standards regarding what constitutes a good day are slipping when you can proudly say to yourself that you've resisted burying a hammer in someone's skull. So far.

hooooo boy. I was at it for a loooong time. And I didn't even make it to the part where I draw the connections describing why my hellhole is like a microcosm of the Bush administration's !!@#$% STUPID mismanagement of the Iraq debacle. Oh well. I gave that one to the owner a few days ago, in person. It was pretty vivid. He laughed, and he got it.

I drank 12 Strongbow ciders today, didn't even get drunk, just....less thrummy. And tonight I'll not be awake, thinking about mixing sharp knives and Vicodin. That's a good outcome.

GB I'm so sorry to learn about your dad. My loving Britta aches for you.

Teucheter! And Kea!

well, now I've splattered my anti-Buddha all over the place, thanks for your kind thoughts and support. I shall probably regret all this spewing in the morning, but there ya go. Life's that way sometimes.

Hey, I live a pretty stressful life, but your story is impressing the F out of me

I genuinely wish I didn't have an impressing tale to tell, Kea. And other than my place and the way I'm affected by it, life is really pretty good, just in a developing phase and I can't seem to hurdle the obstacles. There's just no escaping it, and right now I can't even go off for a couple days somewhere because I'm doing makeup every day.

I seem to be on a twelve year cycle. 94-95 was an even more bizarre series of events when I lived in Puerto Rico, I had a major mental breakdown afterwards. Hopefully this'll be done before I go all the way into blackest depression. That worries me. I handle things very well, short term. It's ongoing, relentless stress that breaks me, and this is purely the result of people doing things without thinking about what they're doing. But I feel more human today. And today I'll be able to go to work, so that's an escape.

Just had a current progresws update.

They are expecting to get my patio sealed with roofing paper on Friday if the weather holds. Then, in January the two-week roofing process with actual roofers (which is what was supposed to begin on Dec 6th) will begin. You see, they had to rebuild pretty much the entire *framing* for the roof, hadn't thought of that part I guess.

Next a wall will be reinforced between the two places. Then hardwood floors will be installed in the other unit. bang bang bang

A very realistic estimate is that I shall be subjected to the noise and workers traipsing through for the month of January, at least.

Another month, where I *needed* to be able to get my work completed for sale (same as July and Aug, in hope to make some money during the holiday gift season...fzzzzzzt...)gone. I don't know how I'll pay my bills this summer if I can't set aside some savings. And I have been harping to the owner, the workers, the management about that aspect of the effect this 'progress' is having on my life since early October.

Where is my hammer.....

Just had a look through those photos, MoG. I'm nearly speechless.

Do these people actually know what they're doing?
Rhetorical question - it's obvious they don't have a clue.

How on earth did they manage to break that tree?
What, exactly, was the purpose of that yellow tape? And why did they think tying it onto the gas barbecue grill was a good idea?

Are these people complete muppets?
Another rhetorical question.

And how, in the name of commonsense and decency, did they expect you to continue living amongst this destruction and mess for all these months?

Is it time to get out of there permanently? Is there anywhere else that will give you what you need to get your life going the way you want it?

s

Hi Teuchter.

I'm less murderous now, I think the PMS spell broke.

No, I don't think they have any clue what they're doing. They tear things apart and then worry about how and when to repair once they've looked at the wreckage and feel like it, best I can tell.

The tree started dying from the poisoning for termites, probably digging up the yard put an end to its root stsyem. I have no idea how they broke what was left of it. *sigh* I'd been planning to hang spanish moss from its skeleton so there's be some shade in the yard come summer.

The purpose of the yellow tape was to keep me from going out of my doors and falling into the trenches and suing the stupid barstids. They moved the grill to the corner because they dug up the area I'd been using to barbecue. I guess it looked like a good place to tie off tape to them.

Muppets is a *very* gentle term compared to the ones I've been using.

Commonsense and decency. hmmmm. That's a good question. I think the truest answer is that because they have no forking clue what they're doing when they start, they constantly underestimate what's involved. So they begin the destruction phase which always seems to involve tearing up my place. And then they learn that WOW! This is *really* a big job, we hadn't budgeted for it right now, so we'll only allocate one guy to work on it for a couple hours daily, amongst the other stuff we have him do, and it goes on for weeks and weeks of endless torture until I get incredibly vivid with them. I actually think they view destruction as progress, and they don't quite understand why I'm bitching about things torn up, because they're *going* to fix 'em again. Someday. My definition of progress is having things as livable, clean and nice as I'd worked to make it, not goddam holes and filth. And since the owner has something like 70 properties, I'm not at all sure he *gets* it what has been going on here for the past 5 months, because it's too much for him to focus on and he rarely used to come by and check things out himself.

I'm not sure what they expected me to do. All I know is that if my place is *not* roofed, plastic gone, thoroughly cleaned and my stuff put back the way I had it when I come home on Friday I shall call every local tv news channel and newspaper with a human interest story for them. Wealthy owner-of-many-local-rental-properties abusing renter to this extent makes pretty good holiday reading. It's like a Scrooge story.

You know, I spent a several thousand bucks to move and get this place livable, most of that went to stuff that 'normal' places already have. I *like* this place, very much, when they aren't wrecking things. I haven't the time, money or energy to move again (had to take a full month off work the last time, and spent the preceeding month packing after work every day. I have an awful lot of stuff). And now my savings are all gone with medical bills, and I'm still about $15,000 in debt for that so I haven't the cash available to do it anyway. I *like* my place. I just want to be left in peace so I can get on with my life. No banging, no wrecking, no streams of workers. That's all I want.

I'm bracing myself to go look at your photos. You have a very expressive way of telling a story, my dear. You really should be channeling all this *hesitates to find the right words* negative energy.

As bad as it is for you, you have us enthralled with your story.

Is there not a local newspaper who would run a column (perhaps anonymously while the work is ongoing to avoid rubber-neckers) where you could provide an outlet for your frustrations and get paid for it?

*leaves fresh and plate of while MoG ponders*

>>Muppets is a *very* gentle term compared to the ones I've been using.<<

The expression "moluccan pastors" is one I sometimes find useful in bypassing profanity-filters.

*sending you a pile of goodvibes and positive thoughts

Happy Christmas, everyone! Here's to peaceful, beautiful, loving holidays

Updating on my place, they managed to get it cleaned and put back together by the time promised. I'm really impressed, they even hung up some xmas lights and bought a new string to replace the broken one, and they also left a nice bottle of wine, chocolates and an xmas card for me. That human touch was so nice.

My friends will be able to visit! It was soooooooo incredibly good to sleep all through the past two nights without whappings, and I'm currently relishing a *quiet* morning, birds chirping outside, the squirrels are bouncing in the trees, I can see my flowers smiling at me again again. Nothing is pounding or vibrating, including myself. ahhhhhhhhhhhh. It's the simple things that make life worth living, you know?

All the best, dear

That must be such a relief! Hope you have a beautiful day, and relish your friends' visit.


I've been listening to gansta rap all morning from the neighbours with the very bassy stereo. Now they've lit a fire in their back yard despite there being a region wide complete fire ban on They seem to be burning the cardboard boxes from their pressies. Now they're also burning plastic


I'm going out so I can get some peace and quiet, and peace of mind...