blocks raze i don't think i hate a lot of people. hate is such a heavy thing. it takes energy i don't have anymore to make it move. but it's the right word for what i feel for him. he lifted some concrete from the edifice that matters most to me. he said he needed it for his downspout. the truth is he has no imagination and no respect for his tenants, so this is what he does with what little life he's got left. he invents pointless projects to pass the time. the bulk of them involve trudging onto the property we pay to call ours unannounced with a wheelbarrow and some stones, or a shovel and some work gloves. i spent a little less than twenty bucks on sixteen paver blocks. eight inches long. four inches wide. two inches deep. red like dried blood. like the frail face of an abandoned barn. like chipped nail polish. not identical to the material that went missing, but near enough to put my mind at ease. i wrote my name on the bottom of each freestanding brick before laying it down. let him try and pilfer these. just let him fucking try. 240815 what's it to you? who go blather from