/lit/ - Literature

>>20839955
8-14-22
August Fourteenth - Thee Olde Towne
I don’t remember falling asleep last night, I can’t recall a dream. That familiar ache that comes with emerging from unconsciousness is suspiciously absent. I feel well rested, but I shouldn’t be, as if I did fall asleep, it was only for a handful of hours. I’m always worried about having a seizure, so the uncertainty about getting any sleep last night is ironically worsening my anxiety and making that entire thing more likely.
My intention today was to see the old town, I like to wallow in my origin of urban decay and lament the lost home of so many childhood memories that I can’t even remember having. The way is easy, even on foot; cut through the neighborhood by the County’s Worst Middle School, take a shortcut through the Christ United Methodist Church parking lot and if you’ve got the tightrope skills you can ride the little mound of straw colored grass by he road all the way to Redacted Mall.
At least, you could. Now they’ve got sidewalks with a little crossing by the intersection. It’s nice that they’ve got amenities like that these days, not so friendly a gesture now that the university’s set to walling off large swaths of the city. That old church is behind a ten foot unscalable wall of puce tinted scrap. Everytime I step outside I see more of the city locked away behind walls and fences, cheap aluminum posts twisted up to resemble that old aristocratic wrought iron, topped with anti impoverished spikes for a little flair.
Let’s say I got turned around then, sent back from where I came. I thought I’d at least get some snaps of Urban Decay, the internet loves that shit, reminds them that death and irrelevance waits for even the most modern of conventions. Also, when stripped of neon signage and emptied of their thousands of regular patrons, town malls reveal themselves as architectural tumors. They’re a neat shoot is what I’m saying.Not that I can photograph for anything, that’s the domain of my family members with talent. I just LARP.
Instead of Urban Decay, enjoy a very live picture of Urban Debauchery. A busy apartment complex where they used to and probably still run a prostitution thing. Idk. Yesterday Dominick Cruz got sent to hell by a head kick, that head dipping-while-darting-sideways finally got him in the end. It’s always what you most expect