just_one_fix tender_square sleep was unsatisfying. i woke with the stress of unfinished house projects, ones that i had been attempting to fix in my dreams and had failed to. were the holes in my walls multiplying? was it a metaphor for my consciousness, the way life was falling apart around me? i couldn't concentrate on readying myself for the day without seeing whether i had fucked up my stitching. i sawed with sandpaper, leveling compound to wall, creating mounds of dust that collected like fresh snow along the baseboards. there were cracks in the gypsum i was hoping to buff out. power chords and a compelling beat drove me to compulsion: i needed to prove my father wrong. i needed to know that the seal i'd made around the ring would hold. that the mending i was tending to make myself a stronger wall wouldn't weaken with outside pressure. 230220 what's it to you? who go blather from