Wednesday, November 10, 2010

dead pen office

The piano stayed in the apartment, far too much of a hassle for the landlord to move, and no one came to claim it. The apartment was rented to a young family, to two sisters of dubious profession and questionable genetic similarity, to a poetess who became quite famous for her communist views and habits of vandalism, to a school teacher, to a recently divorced chemist, to a dentist, and to a small arms dealer for third world countries. These tenants all kept themselves to themselves, except for the chemist who began an affair with the concierge a week after moving in, more out of habit than passion, and the two sisters, whose constant stream of visitors made them unpopular with the other residents and whose inability to ever pay the rent made them unpopular with the landlord. Over the following years, one infant was born (a boy, with a head full of dark hair), three plays were written, a dozen or so vaguely illegal military coup were organized, a cookbook full of recipes for the perfect omelet was researched and written, a still was operated, three marriages ended and two newlywed couples conceived their first children (both daughters, born elsewhere).

Meetings with Time / Carl Dennis

the only thing I dislike more than this time change -- is the other one.