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Wednesday, Sept. 25, 2002 @ 12:10 am

In the new house, I've managed to create an impressive office down in the dungeon of a basement. This is difficult territory for me, but I'm adjusting. In only three days, I've done battle (or made my wife do battle) with no less than eight spiders. I have to believe that there is a psychological trick I can play on myself to get over on the hairy little shits. Piss stains in the desk chair are poor form! I must overcome!

But it's not just the insect-threshold that requires adjusting. The creaks and moans of a new home will scare you straight the first few days. Watch out for the swinging gate in the back yard when the wind blows. That one had me creeping around the house with a curtain rod ready to smash whatever Dark Lord of the Night preyed on our new home. In the basement, all sounds have an effect that I can only describe as a reverse echo. But down here in the hole, I've got a stereo hooked up, and attached to that stereo is a dusty old friend I've not visited for over two years. Hello, Mr Record Player! I'm spinning slabs I've not heard in far too long and with the volume up late at night (no neighbors in apartments connected to these walls!), the music sounds warm and fine and it covers all the whoops and boos of new ghosts hidden in the wooden closets lining these cement walls.

Yes, the square is just 1/2 finished down here below the new house, but I've eeked out a little spot using the economics/ergonomics of Ikea and other stackable house&officewares. Yes! The publishing of books and the routing of rock and roll moves underground! Hello world! We're operating down here now! Please find us; it gets cold in the basement.

I like to believe that the separation from work/non-work will be easier with an entire flight of stairs and a layer of floor bridging earth above my head. At six or seven o'clock each evening, I tell myself, I'll ascend to the living quarters and leave the computer and telephone behind, greeting my wife as she gets home for the day with a tasty meal. But here I am at 12:22am, in the basement organizing shit, stuffing orders and responding to a traffic jam in my inbox. Up those stairs calls a goodnight can of Dr Pepper and a cozy bed in a brand new, freshly painted bedroom. I must cross over. Goodnight!

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