downstairs from love and time.

Upstairs are two men with opposite attitudes toward time. You’re not conservative, are you? Actually they are sleeping together. They’re a couple. I know. Go figure.

I hope you’ll still consider living here. Even as we hear them upstairs fighting now: one with a bb gun, the other with a metal paint can: ping, ping!

Do you notice you always lie to yourself in the future tense? says one.

And the other says, Do you notice you always lie about sex?

You talk instead of act: I’m going to exercise, I’m going back to church, I’m going to make love to you every night, I’m going to change my life!

I have been BUSY everysinglesecond and I will get around to all those things.

Assuming you live as long as Darwin’s tortoise who by the way recently died as will you.

And what do you accomplish, actually, by being all the time uptight? This is a religious experience? It looks like a panic attack!

Indeed the uptight man (let’s call him Mister Now) is tremendously unpleasant. He is so obsessed by the passing moment, by the brevity of life, that he is entirely incapable of thinking straight. His house is always on fire. Which is poignant for about two seconds and afterwards really annoying.

The Tomorrow-Tomorrow guy (let’s call him Mr. Later) is only wasting his own life whereas Mr. Precious-Unrepeatable-Never-Come-Again-Here-It-Goes-Moment annoys the hell out of everyone.

Everyone, that is, except Mr. Infinite-Time-to-Waste, whose soul of inertia keeps him packed in existential blubber so thick that, even if you pierced him with, say, the inevitability of death, within thirty seconds housekeeping has already shown up with a can of paint. He’s been white and comfortable this long—who’s to say he can’t surf it right to the end?

Mr. Later would have been entirely all right, in fact, if only he hadn’t met Mr. Now. He would have gone on living here, peaceful as a cauliflower, until someone came along and lopped his head off.

Oh lucky man, who comes equipped with his own spiritual morphine drip! Every six minutes Mr. Later pushes the button and the optimism shoots right into his veins. Indeed, how else could he endure living with Mr. Infinite Panic of the Now, who must always remind you that this may be the last coffee you’ll ever drink, your last sunrise, your last irritating moment with Mr. NowNowNow.

You understand why we have a hard time finding renters to live downstairs from these two. One all the time singing “Summertime” and the other poking you in the eye. Have I mentioned that heat and air-conditioning ARE included?

And--let me warn you now—now and then they actually get through to each other and then, god forbid—

they switch.

Life is short! says Mr. Later. Run away with me tonight!

And lose my job? asks Mr. Now.

Live for the moment! shouts Mr. Later

And Mr. Now says, But I’m comfortable here.

It’s no wonder the neighbors have all disembarked and this space is available cheap—no deposit. All we ask is that you sweep out front—and serve referee for Mr. Now and Mr. Later. The location is wonderful. The neighborhood is (otherwise) first-rate. A steal at this price, a great opportunity for anyone willing to live downstairs from procrastination and sheer panic.