nomadthethird
more issues than Time mag
I've been doing too many unit conversions. It's 800km, around 500 miles. Not that it matters.
This is an excellent idea... I already have large a wooden Mexican god/idol mounted on the wall, and an antique shaman rug of unknown native american origin on another with a picture of a sort of geometrical demon-guy wearing a hat woven into it. Plus, a Green Hornet poster that's got Bruce Lee in S&M (slash "superhero") costume on it, the solubility rules, an orbital diagram key, medieval map, and a vintage periodic table. There's all sorts of drug paraphernalia in my shoe boxes under my bed.
The only thing missing is a pentagram, really.
No, even worse-- fucking real estate agents! In Bushwick one of my landlords was trying to sell the building, so Corcoran had people coming over every five minutes, the broker had a key, and he'd just WALTZ in whenever he felt like it. After he realized we were not going to clean up anything he stopped showing our unit. But still. So intrusive.
When I lived in a not-too secure place and was going away for quite a while (everyone else in the building had been burgled), I left an upside down pentagram in salt with a note saying 'If you read this, you've been cursed' on it.
I wasn't burgled. Or if I was, they left sharpish.
It kinda helped that my hallway was bright red and had a sculpture of Jesus Christ with his skin flayed off in a corner of it as well I think. Maybe.
This is an excellent idea... I already have large a wooden Mexican god/idol mounted on the wall, and an antique shaman rug of unknown native american origin on another with a picture of a sort of geometrical demon-guy wearing a hat woven into it. Plus, a Green Hornet poster that's got Bruce Lee in S&M (slash "superhero") costume on it, the solubility rules, an orbital diagram key, medieval map, and a vintage periodic table. There's all sorts of drug paraphernalia in my shoe boxes under my bed.
The only thing missing is a pentagram, really.
Buy a cupboard you can lock, and perhaps leave something small in the room like a piece of sellotape that'll be moved if someone's been in there. When my mum was young, she came back home from work early because of a gas leak and found her landlady cooking dinner in her kitchen! She was just "testing the oven" apparently.
No, even worse-- fucking real estate agents! In Bushwick one of my landlords was trying to sell the building, so Corcoran had people coming over every five minutes, the broker had a key, and he'd just WALTZ in whenever he felt like it. After he realized we were not going to clean up anything he stopped showing our unit. But still. So intrusive.
Last edited: