I'm wasting time
on the internet
rather than doing homework or finishing the final stage of my room cleaning. Perhaps you are as well
Next to the the huge pile of clothes spilling out of the closet is a large stack of books, designated my "leisure reading", out of which I was meant to read part of the top book every day, then rotate it to the bottom. Next to this is a paper hole puncher, and a lamp with a handkerchief over it which I occassionally use to cover up my pineal gland when I want to sleep during the day and am too lazy to pull the sheet down over the window. Next to the lamp is a Tarot spread interpreted for me by Jeeves on the last full moon. Nearby are a Rubik's Cube, a whiteboard, a microphone stand, and two of my guitars. Hanging on the wall is a cell phone.
Cornflake Girl plays from the living room.
My bed is made, as it usually is these days, and on top of it are a sketch book that this person made me buy, as well as a blue folder with a sticker I got at a Modest Mouse concert stuck to the front, and the book El Enigma Argentino on top of it. Under the bed are shoeboxes containing phone cords, power supplies, and assorted electrical widgets, remnants from the days I fancied myself a future designer of electrical circuits. Next to the bed, and on the wall above it are two more whiteboards, and the insert from The Private Press.
Icicle plays in the living room. I met an icicle once, but the conversation was probably awkward, since I was overcoming a mild cold with an over dose of Coricidin.
Also next to the bed is my nightstand, which currently contains, in additional to various white pieces of clothing, an empty clove cigarette box containing $200. Proceeding counterclockwise, a larger sketchpad is standing up next to a collapsed music stand, some 55-60 blank CDRs, and a book of church music. On the wall, from bottom to top, are a ruler, two compasses (one without lead), a prodtractor, a hanger, a 30-60-90 triangle ruler, a picture of a business man hanging like a monkey from a tree, an Irene Farrera ticket, a 3.5" by 5" sketch book, a viewfinder, some index cards taped together to be 3" by 6.5", the insert for lift yr skinny fists like antennas to heavean, the first four-panel comic I ever drew, the day after I quit my job, the 5.25" diskette which once contained a mix CD, a CDR labeled Mushroom Soup, a fake nose and glasses, a koala bear I found in a parking lot in 7th grade, an imformational packet on the U of A's study abroad program in Guadalajara, Mexico, a clock, what remains of the pages of a torched lab notebook and the screen that was once inside my window.
The next track from Under the Pink plays. I don't know the name. I copied the CD from a friend of mine. I am an evil, evil man.
Rotate 90 degrees. There's a mosquito on this wall. Excuse me for a moment. Better. A picture of the Willcox Playa. A picture of a tree outside Yuma dorm at the U of A, which I took while killing off a roll of film after the first Portland trip. A postcard from a music school in Sweden. A quote from Sigmund Freud: "When inspiration does not come to me, I got halfway to meet it." A tuning fork, 440Hz. A large Tweety Bird face, which I will draw fangs and evil eyebrows on someday. A picutre by Picasso from 1903 which I will reproduce for my weekend drawing class sometime within the next 48 hours. Song lyrics. Another comic, depicting an old man complaining about damn college kids throwing loud parties all hours of the night, but his wife says, "Oh, Gary, it's the middle of the afternoon, and you're just hearing the afterburners of the jets coming back from their practice missions." A picture of a telephone. Some tesselations. My headphones. The tablature to one of the songs from Faceball 2000. A flyer for Brazilian Bossa Nova. A paper-cut yin-yang dragon picture. A library receipt. A collection of seeds: tomato, carrot, cucumber, greens and tepary beans. A copy of an Alex Grey picture. A postcard from Powell's. The spiral binding from a torched lab notebook hanging from the light fixture, from which hangs a key from a lab I once worked in, from which hangs a key ring, from which hangs a paintbrush, upon which are two rolls of Scotch tape, which holds most of the things on my walls.
The last song is nearing its end. We'll see how brave you are.
Next to said wall is all my important shit. Computer, desk, chair, paper, paper, paper, books, school books, folders, metronome, candles, pens, pencils, lightbulb, a pile of guitar picks, some salmiakki, an EBow, my mixer, a minicassette player I stumbled upon at the University's recycling center while tripping balls on DXM, as well as the djembe bought mere days before setting off for spring break 2001. An alarm clock I never use anymore. Not even plugged in. A big pile of change. A building block, found in the street. A telephone. Juggling balls, tennis balls, a Go board in a briefcase. A backpack. A Danish school bag. Several Spanish dictionaries. Hawaiian Grade A Salvia Leaves: 3g. Syrian Rue seeds: 15g.
The song is over
On the door: "Think for yourself", written in Japanese. The insert for Go Plastic, rotated 45 degrees. Brush and bluky collection notice, from the City of Tucson, Solid Waste Management Department. Hello, my name is srkorn.