stories from the balcony

this chick is a fuckin’ relic man, i’ve had her since i was 4? she was barbie’s ginger beach party fun-lovin’ friend, forget the name unfortunately. she was into american apparel before you were check the gold lam-ay hot pants.

uhhhm, this one didn’t make it.

or that one. sniff. ha kidding i stopped watering those twinks long ago we just keep ‘em around for sentimental purposes and for the birds and squirrel which i have finally STOPPED feeding thanks to matt’s rat paranoia lecture. thank you matt for starving my only (squirrel) friend to death. steph it’s up to you to save me from horticultural failure, keep ferny strong please!

this is molding nicely into the balcony wood. i stopped myself short of taking a photo of the tiger rug that i pitched out there a long time ago not one of you skids claimed, it makes me sad to look at it which is better than when it used to scare me cos it was hung over a chair with its face staring into the apartment at me through the window and when i would watch tv at nite sometimes the eyes would reflect light and my heart would skip a beat. i think the squirrel has since been storing garbage beneath it.