Sunday, March 12, 2006


When I was still living in Astoria, Queens, before I moved in with my domestical partneral object, I used to get the strange feeling that I was carrying on a double life behind her back when I would stay back at my apartment. We only hung out together at her place with our cats, and never in Queens. Thus, it felt like I was one of those CEO guys who keeps a fucking-pad on the side to house his gomare. Of course, in my case there was no gomare, only "Justice Society of America" comic books and my dry cleaning.