God loves poetry readings

If you read my previous blog A Christmas Suicide, Or Thoughts Of, you know that I was told on Christmas Eve that I must move out of the apartment I just finished moving into the night before.

Today, I got in touch with the woman who runs the roommate service. Her name is Margaret and she said the lady I rented the room from wants me out because I came home from a party early in the morning and she thinks this is unChristian like; therefore, she made up a lie (like a good Christian) about her family coming from Florida to live in the room that I was renting. Now, I thought the family story sounded suspicious and to be honest, this makes more sense because I know she is religious. The only thing she told me when I moved in was that there was to be no smoking, drinking, or overnight guests, which quite frankly is fine with me or I wouldn't have taken the room. Being under pressure to write a book and all, I prefer things quiet. However, I didn't know that going to a holiday party/poetry reading was forbidden or that my life outside of the apartment would be monitored. This lady told Tony (see previous blog; he is the guy that made a pass at me and I slapped) that she fears I am an ungodly slut drunk.

Well. I hold very stong spiritual beliefs and I don't happen to think coming home late from a party is a violation of anything other than a false human made perception of sexual sin. (By the way: I didn't get laid at this shindig; perhaps when I finally move out, I'll have learned to say in Spanish, "If you have a son or know someone I can fuck, tell 'em about me!")