Marc
And as the curtain falls, just know you did it all the best that you knew how. I have two hybrid stacks on top of my old tool kit from work. One is more than half books, less than half cds. The other, vice versa. I have bills and letters from the university and the power company and the bank on my desk, wedged in between my laptop and my stereo. I have a stack of thirty cds out, one on top of another, no casing, on top of the stereo. They lay right next to an empty, blank cassette case, which itself is holding a three-quarter full plastic cup of water. The ice has melted. Next to that the phone, next to that the portable discman. The disc player in my stereo broke within months of me buying it, secondhand, from Zach. He warned me, and I can't complain because I only payed fifty dollars for it.
If I look up I can see a list of email addresses for my writing class, used primarily to contact each other when we have problems sending and receiving each other's papers. To the right of that, a form from the university acknowledging that I am an English major with a history minor, and that I am also in 'good' academic standing. To the left, my class schedule from last semester. Above that, directions and instructions for a traffic school class that I was supposed to take on October 27, 2001. I was a no show. To the left and down an inch, a colored picture of a parrot from my friend, Erin.
On the southern wall of my room are two windows, covered in plastic insulation. The gap between the two sets of blinds is occupied by a sweater on a hangar, one that I never wear. There are two posters on this wall -- one American History X, full sized; the other a Tenacious D, half sized. There are two, Wal Mart brand cd racks underneath the windows. One is mostly full (250 capacity), and the other is roughly one-quarter cd's, three-quarter books. DVD's are placed between the two, when open space is available.
On the eastern wall I count nineteen posters, not to mention the shelf that I installed to hold my stereo speakers and a small collection of seven inch records. A light hangs down, the chord brushing up against the desk, which rests against the wall.
On the north wall hangs an East German flag, stapled in each of its four corners. Below that is a photocopied drawing of a photograph that I took in high school. It features one large figure, and one squat figure. Names withheld.
On the west wall are three posters -- one gigantic Beatles, Anthology 3 promo poster; one Mallrats poster (I used to have the first three posters of the Kevin Smith films); above that one for Trainspotting, which is sideways, featuring the five main characters in various poses of discomfort, obnoxiousness, or need. There is also a calendar there, unadorned and undated. It was blank when I bought it last semester to keep track of my schoolwork. I have so little now, there is no need for it.
The floor is covered in various materials. In front of the closet there are clothes in piles. There is a blanket underneat most of the mess. In front of the cd/book racks are two guitar stands, one holiding a Gibson SG, the other a Fender Jazz bass, Mexican made. Ther is a nightstand next to the bed, and a Fender Roc Pro head, standing on its side next to that. On top of the head are six cd's, neatly stacked. On top of those is a Polaroid 600, currently out of film. There are two bass cabinets against the west wall, and a keyboard and four track on top of each. There is a baby blue tub next to my desk, upon which sits a HP Deskjet 722C printer, almost out of paper. The pictures from the camera are on the printer, sharing space with the empty acoustic guitar bag. The acoustic guitar leans up against the bass amp and keyboard. By the bed, a stack of paper has cascaded down towards the door. It is mostly a collection of peer responses and essays and papers from last semester.
Chords are running all over the room. There is an ethernet hub and DSL router under my bed. There is also a Fender Squire Stratocaster there, too. Not to mention the two shoe boxes full of pictures and old journals. Under the nightstand, next to the bed, there are two stacks of books for this semester's use. There is a towel hanging on the back of the door. It is held in place by two nails, approximately one and a half feet apart.
My closet has in it a suitcase, a Marshall 1960A cabinet, another baby blue tub (purchased along with the previously mentioned one) that holds the dirty clothes, a dresser with very few clothes, and old shirts on hangars, pressed out of the way. There are also two very large stacks of old VHS films in the back corner, gathering dust. My laptop bag, and small boxes that have moved with me for three straight years fill the top shelf.
This is my room. I'm never going to clean it again, because it would be a work in futility.
And as the curtain falls, just know you did it all the best that you knew how. I have two hybrid stacks on top of my old tool kit from work. One is more than half books, less than half cds. The other, vice versa. I have bills and letters from the university and the power company and the bank on my desk, wedged in between my laptop and my stereo. I have a stack of thirty cds out, one on top of another, no casing, on top of the stereo. They lay right next to an empty, blank cassette case, which itself is holding a three-quarter full plastic cup of water. The ice has melted. Next to that the phone, next to that the portable discman. The disc player in my stereo broke within months of me buying it, secondhand, from Zach. He warned me, and I can't complain because I only payed fifty dollars for it.
If I look up I can see a list of email addresses for my writing class, used primarily to contact each other when we have problems sending and receiving each other's papers. To the right of that, a form from the university acknowledging that I am an English major with a history minor, and that I am also in 'good' academic standing. To the left, my class schedule from last semester. Above that, directions and instructions for a traffic school class that I was supposed to take on October 27, 2001. I was a no show. To the left and down an inch, a colored picture of a parrot from my friend, Erin.
On the southern wall of my room are two windows, covered in plastic insulation. The gap between the two sets of blinds is occupied by a sweater on a hangar, one that I never wear. There are two posters on this wall -- one American History X, full sized; the other a Tenacious D, half sized. There are two, Wal Mart brand cd racks underneath the windows. One is mostly full (250 capacity), and the other is roughly one-quarter cd's, three-quarter books. DVD's are placed between the two, when open space is available.
On the eastern wall I count nineteen posters, not to mention the shelf that I installed to hold my stereo speakers and a small collection of seven inch records. A light hangs down, the chord brushing up against the desk, which rests against the wall.
On the north wall hangs an East German flag, stapled in each of its four corners. Below that is a photocopied drawing of a photograph that I took in high school. It features one large figure, and one squat figure. Names withheld.
On the west wall are three posters -- one gigantic Beatles, Anthology 3 promo poster; one Mallrats poster (I used to have the first three posters of the Kevin Smith films); above that one for Trainspotting, which is sideways, featuring the five main characters in various poses of discomfort, obnoxiousness, or need. There is also a calendar there, unadorned and undated. It was blank when I bought it last semester to keep track of my schoolwork. I have so little now, there is no need for it.
The floor is covered in various materials. In front of the closet there are clothes in piles. There is a blanket underneat most of the mess. In front of the cd/book racks are two guitar stands, one holiding a Gibson SG, the other a Fender Jazz bass, Mexican made. Ther is a nightstand next to the bed, and a Fender Roc Pro head, standing on its side next to that. On top of the head are six cd's, neatly stacked. On top of those is a Polaroid 600, currently out of film. There are two bass cabinets against the west wall, and a keyboard and four track on top of each. There is a baby blue tub next to my desk, upon which sits a HP Deskjet 722C printer, almost out of paper. The pictures from the camera are on the printer, sharing space with the empty acoustic guitar bag. The acoustic guitar leans up against the bass amp and keyboard. By the bed, a stack of paper has cascaded down towards the door. It is mostly a collection of peer responses and essays and papers from last semester.
Chords are running all over the room. There is an ethernet hub and DSL router under my bed. There is also a Fender Squire Stratocaster there, too. Not to mention the two shoe boxes full of pictures and old journals. Under the nightstand, next to the bed, there are two stacks of books for this semester's use. There is a towel hanging on the back of the door. It is held in place by two nails, approximately one and a half feet apart.
My closet has in it a suitcase, a Marshall 1960A cabinet, another baby blue tub (purchased along with the previously mentioned one) that holds the dirty clothes, a dresser with very few clothes, and old shirts on hangars, pressed out of the way. There are also two very large stacks of old VHS films in the back corner, gathering dust. My laptop bag, and small boxes that have moved with me for three straight years fill the top shelf.
This is my room. I'm never going to clean it again, because it would be a work in futility.
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