#63 - The Apartment Building That Leads to Hell

A Fighting Chance; Sending You Photos of Common Flowers Like I’m An Old Lady; Flash Fiction: The Apartment Building That Leads to Hell; Time Machine

Hello, my friends,

I’d been thinking about running a 5K for a while and I finally chose a date and began training last Friday, 4/28. To be perfectly honest, I don’t really care much for running but I know that I don’t enjoy exercise without clear purpose; I like playing sports, earning splat points in Orangetheory, and working towards an aim (like a race). Something about running that does appeal to me is it’s minimalist nature; simply put on the shoes (or your special socks!) and go. For people who already have a lot going on, a low-key, low-stakes activity like jogging is ideal. In any case, the race is on July 28th, 2024, so feel free to cheer me on from afar.

A select group of my friends will also be happy that I have finally started watching the anime Attack on Titan. I’m only a few episodes in and so far it’s very dramatic!

“Hermes, or Mercury” from Greek Mythology Systematized by Sarah Amelia Scull (1880)

A Fighting Chance

The last time I was in a real fight was probably in 10th grade. Later, when I was a senior, a younger guy tried to pick a fight with me and I refused. He was smaller and I was past the point of fighting to prove something. I had no good reason to get into it with him. Thankfully, I haven’t had any opportunities to get into an actual street fight over the past twenty-plus years, though I understand that they do happen.

I was driving in downtown Los Angeles a few years ago when a fight erupted on the street in front of me. Four guys spilled out onto the road — two of them wrestled back to the sidewalk while the other two were circling each other near my car. The big guy closed in and BAM! a single loping overhand from his opponent dropped him cold onto the street. YouTube is full of these kind of videos — and I admit that I watch them sometimes — but it’s so much more authentic when it’s right in front of you!

The thing is, I like to fight (that’s why I studied Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu before hurting my knee), but doing it in earnest as an adult is too risky. I’ve got a family, a job, friends; what do I need a black eye, a concussion, broken bones, and/or busted knuckles for? The thrill of battle may make it worthwhile for some, but not for me. There would need to be a unique situation for me to throw hands with another adult.

Partially, I know my point of view is a result of class; most middle-class professionals don’t get into bar fights, my relatives aren’t brawling at family gatherings, and nor are my friends. Generally, fighting just isn’t part of my mileau. It’s odd to consider under what circumstances my life would be so different that I’d view getting into physical altercations, being arrested, released, and doing it again as routine. In fact, I don’t think it’s something I seriously want to know.

“Richard Humphreys, the Boxer” (1788) by John Hoppner

Sending You Photos of Common Flowers Like I’m An Old Lady

This plant is called — and I’m not making this name up — a Hairy Rockrose.

Fleshly Sage

Not a plant at all!

Flash Fiction: The Apartment Building That Leads to Hell

“Listen, I’m just offering unsolicited advice here, but you I don’t think you should move into that building.

Yes, the small silver orb floating (By Itself!) in the middle of the lobby could be a fun interior design hack to add to the luxuriant feel of what looks like a very plain, very normal building from the outside. Or, just hear me out, it could also be an ancient surveillance technology implemented by one of the resident necromancers. Sure, it looks a little bit like the lovechild of a torrid affair between a Quidditch snitch and a softball. But does that make it any better? I wouldn’t consider living in the world of Harry Potter a boon for work-life balance.

So the mysterious orb doesn’t put you off, fine, but surely you smelled the brimstone as soon as we entered the building’s courtyard. Do you really want to live in a place that smells like a hellhound’s farts? Well, yes, the fire-pit in the middle is a neat way to relax with the neighbors, though it being as big as a medium-sized jacuzzi is, uh, notable. Talk about hot tub!

The apartment itself isn’t exactly the heavenly ideal either. I’ve never heard of a third-level subbasement unit and I certainly wouldn’t want to live there. Imagine trying to get a quiet night of sleep with your upstairs neighbors shuffling through the arcane steps of age-old rituals like they’re sacrificing model warships to Focalor. Just the chanting would drive me into the ground!

Finally, and I wasn’t sure about how to bring this up since you didn’t seem at all put off when you saw it but having an actual gate to hell in the pantry is going to make your food storage situation very difficult. I’m not even going to mention how disgusting it will be with various (very rude) ghouls and goblins tracking the many muds of the underworld into onto your kitchen floor. And while it’s nice that the unit has a spit big enough to roast even the portliest of babies, it does not make up for the lack of a dedicated parking spot.

You might as well continue staying with us. Your father will be so pleased!”

“Demon” (1951) by Eugene Brands

Time Machine

Here’s what I wrote in HMF a year ago (in issue #10):

• Telehealth FTW: A good experience with a video appointment for Sophie’s red eye. Ironically, Michael got red eye this week and making a telehealth appointment was a real pain! Win some, lose some…

• Baby See, Baby Do, pt. 2: What the kids are doing at 19 months and age 4.

• The Time-Sense of Professions: A mini essay on how various professions perceive time. One of the most interesting pieces I’ve written for HMF, imho.

“Everywhere eyeballs are aflame” (1888) by Odilon Redon