I maybe have found a house in the city. I have kicked the tires of many nice houses but none of them felt like mine. I was beginning to wonder if my picker WAS broken, like I had no taste for life any more. Then the minute I saw this house, blammo. My type, a one of a kind giant pain in the butt. Yummy.

The $ of it would be crazyhard and scary, kids in school nobody to help ... But, Fuck It: I want what I want. (That works less well with people than with houses.)

We shall see, I have finite resources and the house will surely go to bidding war that I will likely lose - Unlike my taste in people, my taste in impossibly built fallingdown old brick/stone houses has a hipster cache now. Like avocado toast. But it was worth the effort to feel a desire-bloom. When Want moves through me at an object of desire, it is a stronger feeling than any other. Like a surge of 'I can really hold a thought just try me' superpower.


dorothy - medicine man

my type (sturdy)