mainsqueeze's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- cut me right to the chin This is what I see in my bedroom: great heaps of pillows, pillows everywhere-- little pillows and giant pillows and store-bought pillows and homemade pillows and old, gross pillows, brand-new pillows. These are in front of me, behind me, and on both sides. To the left, my side of the "bed" (really a rickety old futon, but I've got imagination) there's a tiny art-deco night table my Mother gave me, covered in red bamboo mats, novelty notebooks, James Dean postcards, and a red lamp shaped like a cone. One of my striped paintings is on the wall. My book case is just beyond that, by the foot of the bed, the third shelf bowing under the weight of The Water Method Man, Allen Ginsberg's Collected Poems, White Noise, Why Are We in Vietnam?... Jeromy's side of the room just happens to be the side where all of my clocks are, my James Dean clock and my chrome spacey clock and my old tin clock and the two alarm clocks. There's a picture of a busty blonde in a vinyl bikini top in an ornate gold and white frame on the wall, right over the nightstand that houses all of my Star Wars figurines (still in the original packaging, of course) and my drawer ful of sex toys, condoms, and lube. The entertainment stand is past that, across from the book case. The first things that I notice when I look at it are my Buffy box sets, my foot-tall C3PO, and the huge crystal vase full of dried roses. And it's funny now, but just behind the bedroom drawer, there's a package of diapers, some ridiculously small shirts, two sippy cups, and a baby bottle. In this room, in my life. 12:11 p.m. - 2004-02-02 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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