essay
The day before yesterday, my partner was smoking out of the bedroom window. He sat up, kneeling on his drum throne with one hand outside in the white-cast, early evening mist. It was one of those gorgeous cool cloudy days that followed two weeks of thick muggy heat…
Read MoreLast night, (still in burnout recovery) I lay facing up in my bed. My comforter is white with bold maroon stripes; my pillows don’t match, instead, they’re a solid bright firey red. Both windows were open, they’re the kind you unlock with a hinge and wind out, kind of like a book. They’re on the wall to the left of my bed, the openings are facing each other so, unfortunately, I’m not catching one bit of breeze. I had a fan blowing on the right side of my room. It’s the long upright kind that does too much while you sleep and too little when you’re awake.
Read MoreI’ve just recently rearranged my room. It was one of those 2 AM manic sweaty cleans after a nine-hour shift. For two and a half hours I moved furniture while listening to Renaissance, Beyonce’s new album.
I didn’t realize until now, upon looking up at the ceiling, that my room is almost a cube, and so by default a rectangle I guess. When you walk in you can see my little black desk (given graciously to me by my boyfriend); beside it are my black Rokit 5s positioned on stands, and beneath them, foam isolation pads. They face the old chair I stole from the room over that I now use for my desk space. It has 4 silver wire legs and a back held together by zip ties. It’s not the type of chair you can comfortably lean back in (Hans pointed out to me yesterday) but I wouldn’t have ever known as I always sit in it cross-legged. It has a round furry red seat.
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