Would prefer to be writing in the morning and not trying to force one out at 6. This will be more autobiographical than I let on. Maybe I'll add a monster to it for discontinuity. A cameo from me as the guy who likes basketball.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P8QHw9lrMao
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P8QHw9lrMao
The armchair was wedged into the flatback of the trunk like it had been installed on a swivel. A bird that only whistles this early in the morning was sounding off, pisssed off and serious. Jeremy was asleep in the backseat. The couch wouldn’t come out.
There was a pile of furniture outside of the apartment building that someone had to guard with their lives t all times. The Blockbuster guy looked furtively at them through the window, he looked about ready to complain that they were using his driveway. The front door looked like it had been designed to prevent people from stealing. They turned everything to the side in the way where it would take up the least surface space, and left knicks and damage to the wooden door frame. Luckily, the floor was a kind of marble which didn’t damage easily.
When it’s difficult to get things into a room, it becomes equally as difficult to feel comfortable with the layout or room. Not that moving into your first apartment is ever necessarily a happy endeavor. No matter how much you bring from home, it hangs on the unfamiliar in the same way you do. It doesn’t lose it’s sentimental value, but doesn’t have a sense of purpose or belonging. Liza knew the first order of duty was to get everything unpacked and remove the boxes from view completely, if ever a sense of home were to be established. Her boyfriend Joshua wasn’t very helpful, eyeing his watch and much more concerned about the basketball game starting later on.
Her sisters car was getting towed unless it was out of the lot, the Blockbuster guy said, holding the door and shouting with one leg on the pavement. Great, already some unfriendly neighbors to deal with.
She passed an unfriendly looking guy wearing a fedora and suspenders repeatedly in the hallway as she watched her oldman and boyfriend carry things up and down the stairs. He paced up and down the corridor like he was waiting for someone, she assumed his girlfriend.
She was escaping from her mom for the first time, but did not realize the good that could come out of that. The mom was a substitute secretary, a regular abuser of prescription medication who relied on her for help at every turn. It was unclear why she was fond of this lady who had gambled away all of the family’s savings on the internet and now had to sell the shitty house in the shitty neighborhood they grew up in after the 2nd mortage fell through.
The first night was easier than the rest of the week, with the simple pleasures of grocery shopping and furnishing the walls providing the veil of structured living. There was a large asian population in the area, with Chinese restaurants on every corner and different sets of interchangeable races yelling at each other in native tongues.
The radio played her old Springsteen records, as she ate cereal for dinner. In the coming weeks, school would get back underway, her new roommate (whom she hadn’t met yet) would move in, the subtleties of day to day life would open themselves up to her. The first person to call gets my attention tonight, she thought to herself, unwilling to admit the fact that no one would. The neighbour with the fedora and suspenders was listening to loud techno music downstairs, atleast it seemed that was the room he was in. It was hard to picture the other tenants that she hadn’t seen yet.
The banging of the bass soon transgressed the floor below her as she attempted to read a Nancy Drew novel to be teleported back to an earlier time. The beat continued and she sat with the book open flat over her lap, on the mattress which only appeared to shake from the techno. Through the open window she could make out the treble line of the song as well, with the kid himself lending vocals over it. It had to be him singing, no prerecorded voice would sound that unnatural.
A bang came from the front room door. It persisted, intermittently ceasing but then starting again, loudly at first and gradually quieter until it restarted its cycle. She opened the door quickly, skin becoming blotchy because of the excitement, running past the closet which housed all of her empty boxes and kitchen which was limited on counterspace. Approaching the door and peeking through the eye hole she noticed a figure receding, finally giving up. She opened the door and called out after what appeared to be a him, but he was gone up the stairs and onto the second floor. There was a note on the door however, warning her of a party upstairs that night.
Oh great, a party, she thought. She wasn’t the party type of girl. She returned to her room and went to sleep.
The next morning, a cat from the next apartment continuously meowed. She ate cereal while watching Regis and Kelly on her tube style TV. It was soon 3 oclock, she had no job, she wrote a poem, she washed her hair, her sister called.
The monster in the next room used his long finger nails to peel the skin off of an orange. He was there when she wasn’t watching, and didn’t run away particularly quickly. When she opened her door, he would stand up and wander into the closest dark spot, disappearing only from plain view.
She decided to go to the pet store and buy a cat. Another series of lonely nights might do her in. She waited for her boyfriend to call, he did not. She called him, it rang, he didn’t answer. The guy at the pet store suggested getting the oldest cat there, he was cheap, used to living with people, and could be considered independent for a cat. She considered this but opted for the cute young one. She had no idea why people needed companions but it was clear they did.
Not proud of this one tonight. Disjointed, pointless, no forward movement. Next I'm reading a book about characters. Because I obviously don't have any characters. My head is a piece of shit tonight.
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