I decided that I’m sick of looking for a new house. Everywhere I look costs more than the joint that I live in, is further away from the city, and has no yard for the puppies.

This doesn’t solve the issue that I live in a shack. It’s kind of hilarious actually. The house across the street from me recently sold for $1.5 million – my house has walls that leak and drippy ceilings. Most people in my hood have BMWs or Skylines – I have two puppies that pull me around on a $36 ebay bike (with a broken pedal).

Not to mention, the idea of signing a lease makes me retch. Solution?


Since the weekend when I had a good Writing kick I’ve been re-arranging my shack. I’ve put couches in new rooms; re-positioned my bed; and slowly started to build myself an office. I marched to Ikea tonight armed with credit card and bought simple things like shelves and cupboards and pretty new lamps.

Things to hot up the shack.

Pretty soon I’ll have a desk facing directly out the window and a high back chair. And shortly after THAT blog family… I should have a fresh manuscript.

Screw moving. Writing’s more important.

A couple years back I spent a brief period living in a laundry closet in Manhattan on the Upper East Side… the shack is a walk in the park.