July 3. I’ve tried everything. Drano, snaking it, bleach. I routinely get down on my hands and knees and just yank at the hair and mess that, seemingly, forms over night. 

It’s not an impossible fix. It just seems like I’m doing it far more often than I should be. I’m talking about my bath tub, of course. The water slowly fills up, past my ankles. And then slowly slowly goes back down. You know, leaving that brown ring of filth and grime. How the hell am I supposed to bring a girl over with this? 

July 13. I was told to not pour Drano into it. Apparently it’s bad for the pipes. Newer buildings with newer pipes can handle it, but old lead pipes corrode faster than you think. This is what Timmy tells me. I don’t know why I should believe him. He’s not a plumber or anything, he’s just old. Some people just command that type of authority, I suppose. No Drano it is. 

But then what? 

July 15. Super doesn’t care. Landlord doesn’t either. Maybe I should withhold rent. But how’s that gonna look? “I’m not paying because of the hair in my drain.” How do I prove it’s not mine? 

July 16. It’s not just hair in my drain. I can hear the skittering in the pipes. Delmonte tells me this is normal. Just roaches and bugs and shit maneuvering around. Why did I move here? Hell – why does anybody move here? I should have gotten the apartment in Kensington. The rent was affordable, the buildings were nice, it was just far as fuck. 

Not that I’m going anywhere though. 

July 20. I think someone else is showering in my shower. Timmy showed me this article about a guy who found a squatter living in his attic. I think that’s happening. I can just feel the presence of someone around each corner. In the dark, when the lights are off, sometimes I can feel them there. And if I just quickly grabbed at the darkness I’d get their elbow or their hair. They’re that close to me. 

July 25. When I got home my apartment door was open. 

July 26. Strange night. Went with Delmonte to get my cards read. The woman couldn’t do them. She said there was a lock on me. She looked scared. Her and some others whispered in a hushed tone. Delmonte took me outside and said I should probably head home. 

July 28. Delmonte isn’t returning my calls. 

July 30. There’s something in my apartment. I can hear it. I can feel it. When I was showering, the water, per usual, started to flood past my ankles. I turned off the water and stood there. Listening. 

And I heard it – clear as day. Saw it too. Two distinct splashes like two feet were stepping into the bath tub with me. I watched the water break and splash and even ripple. 

The steam in the room took on a different density. It was a wave of cold. 

August 1. Timmy ran into Delmonte outside of Baby’s All Right. Said he seemed shook. Apparently asked about me a lot. How do you refuse to talk to someone but then ask a million questions about them? We were close. I miss him. 

August 2. The nice old black ladies don’t come to my door anymore. They used to slide Jesus and God flyers under my door every week. I was leaving for work and caught them. They looked scared, like I caught them in some act. Tried to be charming. Asked if I could have one. The woman was shaking. 

August 3. Bought Drano. Don’t know why. Might drink it. Just kidding.

August 3 again. had a dream about drinking drano and swallowing a zippo. didn’t love it. 

August 4. Woke up to the shower running. Water nearly flooded out of the tub. It’s gonna take fucking forever for it to go down. 

August 5. Now the sink won’t drain. Toilet either. This building is positively fucked. 

August 6. Knocked on my neighbors door to see if they were having problems. No answer. Looking back, they’ve been quiet for a while. No TV. No music. Wonder if they’re traveling. 

August 7. Another nightmare.  Still no word from Delmonte. Think he also told Timmy something too. What the fuck?

August 8. Got home and saw caution tape all over my neighbor’sw door. Cops were pulling out a body on the stretcher. Trouble in paradise.

August 9. Got the idea of pouring drano down the drain and throwing a lit match down there. Who knows? 

August 10. Fuck it.

August 11. fuck it.

August 12. Tub never drained. 

August 15. Bad dreams.  A woman came and asked about my neighbors. Asked if I saw them digging around in front of the building, or maybe fucking around in the cellar.  Asked if they’ve ever been violent to animals or if I’ve over heard them in the middle of the night. 

Told her I had my own problems. 

August 16. Gonna drink the drano. Seems funny.