Three Compact Discs Lost to the House: One and the Same, Fuzzy Logic and Walking Wounded

The Dirty Hippie came to the house. Via Mexico.

The DH.

He wasn't so dirty.

His name was Jay.

He was there to sublet. After Joanna departed.

With his arrival. A two liter bottle. Home distilled. Mezcal.

Mike had originally lived in the room. A bit cramped. For Mike's things. His electronics.

He took over Joanna's room. Her room. Her closet. Closet or office.

Freeing the room for Jay.

Off the living room. All night sessions of GoldenEye. All night sessions of Final Fantasy VII.

You didn't see much of Jay. Understandably.

You didn't see much of the mezcal. Unless you were me.

The liquor reserve. I'd mix it with anything. It was not pleasant.

I spent a lot of time in that house. All of my time. Officially. I lived across the street. Unofficially. I lived upstairs. With my days spent downstairs. Obsessing over Final Fantasy VII. No school. No work.

Jay moved out. Eric moved in. I moved home.

My time in Syracuse was up.

Vision - The Kids Still Have a lot to Say. Princeton Record Exchange. Bargain punk.