The Ballad of Tim’s Apartment.

Viagra Triangle Gold Coast

A mosaic of prison art, paintings by the mentally deranged.

Staggering – Every square inch. Every wall.

Want some caramel corn made out of beer?

Should we open five barrel-aged bomber variants of Alpha Klaus in one sitting?

Yes to all.


Tim had no job, per se.

Tim definitely had a maid.

Tim’s maid had more taxable income than Tim.

A forty-five dollar Giordano’s pizza, every ingredient.

Pizza boy: “a first in Chicago history!”

A brick of everything –

Fungus, vegetable, mammal, fish.

Dense enough to inspire an event horizon.


Eating it still, the following morning on the red line home,

Coffee thermos of Surly Darkness.


A Sharkula freestyle session.

A Dramatic Fanatic.

What is Zombie Dust? Let’s age it.

What is Bourbon County? Pour it in my mouth, please.

A bottle of Stella – a joke tradition for years,

Passed off anew to a crew member every Dark Lord Day.

Four bottles of Tactical Nuclear Penguin. $200 each? No problem.

More spirit than beer, frozen relentlessly ‘til 32% Alcohol by Volume.


Paper bag hand drawn penguins converted to tattoos.

“Let’s pour each 300 milliliter bottle in to its own shaker pint.”

Funnels were fashioned – Tactical Nuclear Penguin? Directed back in to amber vessels.

A beer cellar bedroom. I can’t see the floor in this bedroom.

53.6 degrees Fahrenheit 24-7, year round via window AC unit.

Thanks for helping me move this couch.

The Trappist Monks thank you, too.

Have a Westvleteren 12.


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