Читать книгу Notice - Dustin Cole - Страница 10

I’ve lived here for twelve years. Seven bills for a one bedroom. It doesn’t get much better than that. Not here. They tried to jack it up to twelve. All this when I was working on the Venom costumes. Like, I had zero time for anything, right? You know how it gets in film. One day you’re eating chicken, the next day feathers. I knew it wasn’t legal. The advocate I got through the church advised me to suggest I let them do the renovations, and when they were done I could move in again. They weren’t havin’ it. Instead we had an RTB hearing. The arbitrator upheld the notice. I took it to the Supreme Court. Meanwhile I’m packing up my house. I’ve been pounding the pavement trying to figure this out. Of course, the advocate, he’s not a real lawyer. He hasn’t taken the bar. On top of that I’m blasting out masks and crests and capes left right and centre. Custom sewing jobs. Short turnaround. Like same day–type shit. That’s why it looks like Armageddon in here. I would totally smoke a joint. Now it’s in the appeal stage. Now what’s in question is the arbitrator’s decision. It’s not even about the notice anymore. That’s exactly what my advocate said: they won’t renovate, they’re not renovating. Oh, my, god, I totally needed a hoot. Can I offer you a glass of wine? I’ve got three different reds, a couple white. Just point to the one. The Riesling. Me too. Hot out, eh. And the smoke. Do you have a lot more deliveries? I’m going on and on. They tried to show the apartment last week. They’ve communicated with me by mail this whole time and then out of nowhere they knock on the door trying to show the place. I totally made a scene. The couple who came to view it felt really bad. The manager’s eyes were kind of vibrating. It looked like he was calculating. Not like, figures, not like long division or something. Moves. Chess moves. Thank you so much for the ganj. I know it’s mine, like I paid for it, but… Seriously, look at me, look at this, I’m boxed in here. I’ve been crying off and on all day. My Pfaff is what’s keeping it together. Everything. I don’t know where I’m gonna go if they deny the appeal. No dude in the picture. My dad lives in Mississauga. We haven’t spoken in ages. He hates that I’m gay, but he should just step out of his glass closet already. He’s a nonagenarian. Good luck. Anyhoo. I’m like, one of the go-to people for costumes right now. There’s the film biz, the theatre biz, private events. I know I could. But seven hundred. It’s a chill overhead. And you know, feast and famine. Some months you’re hemorrhaging money. You can light that again if you want, I’m good. Oh you have to go. No. I totally understand. You’ve got a job to do. Respect.