My brother’s tiny garage apartment is an ice cave. A messy, dirty clothes riddled, full ashtrayed, bottle collecting wonderful ice cave. He is an AC Tech so it goes without saying his unit works efficiently. If you want to “bach’ it” (As in bachelor not Bach you overeducated rubes) for real, you go to the cave. The man sleeps on his leather couch every night for God’s sake.
I don’t find it to be gross or anything. It smells clean. There is no actual food garbage, and the bathroom is always pretty clean too. It just displays the evidence of a dude, living and wallowing in his own, deep undercover– dude space.
Thank God for it. He has Super cable, and a big T.V.
When I’m tired of pretending I am an esoteric Spartan warrior, I ease on down to 640 and a half for an easy chair, a Camel Ultralight, and some Ultimate Fighting.
Last night I brought dinner, pictured above. We aren’t poor, or broke, we just like some Ramen Noodles now and then. For 44 cents worth of MSG and dehydrated paste, I bought myself a round or two of Miller lites and a front row seat to oblivion. Between the two of us we must have burped 40 times. Was it the Ramen?
I know, you waited all day for this?
Sometimes the circus hustles you.
Top Juancho
MSG makes me sleepy
I’ve been to the cave and lived to tell about it. It’s the ice bunker where the glass forest grows. The cigarette butts spring to life out of their tiny circular planters. In the back there’s a refrigerator whose only purpose that I can tell is to hold the freezer up to eye level. That’s where the next bottles stay chilled waiting for Rod Roddy to yell “Come on down, you’re our next contestant on let’s get drunk.” Now I’d be a lying, no account, mf if I didn’t tell you good folks that Rod Roddy sits on top of my freezer in a little green bottle. He yells at me all the time to play.
I wish I had super cable.
Oh boy. I could talk about ramen noodles all day. But alas, I have grown very sleepy. I shall bang my head against the wall three times and fall into a deep, deep slumber……