I remember a few weeks after I moved into this apartment which has become Zombie Logic Press headquarters I had just been homeless after putting everything I had into a business that had failed. But this afternoon fortune had smiled on me. I had a pot of beans and even a pork hock to put in them. I was watching a movie called The Northfield Cemetery Massacre on a computer and network adapter Jenny had given me. I was getting a free internet signal from one of the restaurants I live behind, and on occasion the signal was strong enough to actually get internet.
I felt incredibly grateful for all of those things. That was almost eight years ago now. The Downtown building I had moved into was dilapidated and at the center of what is now the most dangerous neighborhood in the most violent city in America under 200,000 people.
I had no furniture, no luxuries, and everything I did have was given to me.
Undaunted by the FBI statistics that I was in the most dangerous neighborhood in America, I went for long walks at night. I felt mighty. Maybe even impervious. I had this belief that I was the most dangerous beast roaming the streets.
Eight years later things have changed in amazing ways. This afternoon my biggest challenge was trying to find space on a book shelf for some new Thriller Videos that had come in.
Gentrification has eventually spread to my block and even has started creeping down the street the people who are buying buildings on would never even have gotten out of their cars before. Soon I anticipate I will be asked to leave.
And that will be fine with me. I like to start things not jump on bandwagons.
This place has meant a lot to me. The crazy scenes I have seen at one of the busiest intersections in town. The scenes of restaurant workers coming and going in an alley behind five restaurants and bars. The homeless and mentally ill characters discharged from the shelter and the treatment center every morning to wander the streets.
I would consider finding a way to buy it and officially put my logo out on the facade, but even in my apartment the floors sag towards the middle of the room, and I suspect the wiring, plumbing, and boiler are all on the way out.
All of these things would be beyond my ability to fix, and I suspect I am not the type of insider that the current owner is that such things would not go unpunished by the building inspectors.
So, on nights like this I try to wring as much as I can out of the time I have left here.