Thursday, April 23, 2009

Long Live Salvatore

Yes, that's how you spell his name, Salvatore. He is the red paper shredder I bought this evening in the midst of cleaning. He's a cube. He's small. He's always hungry and I have lots of shit to feed him. At this moment, Salvatore is turned off and unplugged from the wall. He's overheated, again. This is the third time he has overheated since I birthed him from his packing material at 8:00. It's currently 10:02.

In three years time I have stowed lots of FUCK in my apartment. Right now, I'm going through all of my old bills and whatever enveloped mail that snuck into my desk drawers or elsewhere. I feel a bit like I am a member of the Watergate crew as I smoke cigarettes and stare out the window shredding my documents.

I know that I could just tear this shit up by hand, but I get paranoid about identity theft and shit like that. I must think pretty highly of myself because I have ZERO money. But some how in my brain I think that it is possible for a piece of paper to fly out of a dumpster and into the hands of some evil person.

I guess this must be some form of mail paranoia. I totally would have burned the mail, but it was too windy to light the grill on the back side of my apartment complex. Believe me, I thought about it. I thought about it even more because there was a big group of mo-fos sitting together under a tree singing songs from Grease at the top of their lungs. For a moment I thought, Awww that's sweet. When that moment passed I considered setting my mail on fire by shooting the grill with an arrow from my bow. That's some Grease Lightning for ya. Maybe I could have said that from my apartment window. Yes. I would like to set my mail on fire by shooting an arrow at it from my apartment window. But, with my luck, I'd miss like five times before I'd have to walk out there, get my arrows, and just torch the shit by hand.

All viking funeral rituals aside, Salvatore and I are going to wrap up the night now.

More on the adventure that is my moving out of this shit rigid apartment later.

1 comment:

Er ist glaubhaft said...

We should have a "Sensitive-Document-Burning" Box Social once the wind dies down. It will be splendid! We'll sit around the enclosed brazier on theback veranda and feed old bills and such to the fire.