I have my own place now. For approximately the last year I’ve lived in a fairly reasonable situation in a granny flat titled Pixieland. I’m glad to get out of there, though. The name Pixie is a sour reminder of a sexual happiness I’ll never get to access again and living under a roof with that title constantly brought it home to me. It was like driving a car with a muffler leak. The carbon monoxide will make you feel tired but you won’t realise why. It’s my own fault that I have not taken this step earlier, completely.
Now I have a far larger place of my own. It’s eight in the morning and there’s sun spilling across my entire living area. The kitchen is filled with marble and stainless steel sexiness. I actually have a built-in closet that almost fits all my clothes. Once again I have a room to set up as a studio for music, editing and photography. Life is looking up.
On the list to aid in the reformation of the Groover of previous times:
- more bizarre kitchen adventures
- random road trips
- MAILBOXES!!!
- far more adventures in learning weird and wonderful things
Come along if you dare, but I’m going anyway.
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4 comments:
Woohoo!
That is awesomely good news, Vic. From your email I thought you were sleeping in your car (sheesh) but now I know you've got your own place and can play music again I am a whole lot happier.
Huge hugs
D
xx
You sound like The Groover again, Vic. I'm glad you're back. I missed you.
YAY..my vic is back!!
Th' Cap'n will be there, Love.
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