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Dirty Apartment
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TITLE (EDIT)
Dirty Apartment
DESCRIPTION
Description of my dirty apartment and its cause, me.
[756 words]
TITLE KEYWORD
Humor
AUTHOR
Sunny
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Just another human being, or maybe an alien, i'm not sure, why dont u bend over and find out.
[February 2008]
AUTHOR'S E-MAIL ADDRESS
free_love98@yahoo.com
AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (21)
A Non Special Day (Short Stories) Just a saturday morning. [515 words]
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Death To Fascism (Poetry) The title and the poems have no connection ;) [128 words]
Friday Evening (Short Stories) Is the hero a scumbag? An ordinary friday night turns into a sexual orgy. [1,947 words]
I Get Arrested (Short Stories) The title says it all. [812 words]
I Love Phoebe Gloeckner (Short Stories) Imagine emailing your favorite artist/celeb. and getting a reply back... Phoebe Gloeckner is da BOMB. she does serious comix, phenomenal art and storytelling.... along with Crumb and Bukowski the bes... [873 words]
Jingle Bell (Short Stories) Even simple liquieds have adverse effects on this universe. [537 words]
Lunch (Poetry) Lunch break. [45 words] [Drama]
Paloma Pena (Short Stories) Sigh! so many girls, so little time. [385 words] [Action]
Poems (Poetry) Miscellaneous poetry. [134 words]
Roch (Short Stories) Cybersex. [289 words] [Biography]
Sad Poem (Short Stories) i cut my soul and let it bleed on the paper. [295 words]
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The Horror Of Existence (Short Stories) Musings on a shitty moment in time. [573 words]
The Sound Of Laces (Short Stories) a womans erotic night is sparked by her high heeled leather boots. [830 words]
Think (Short Stories) Philosophically I hit it on the nail... but the last paragraph still displeases me. [1,427 words]
Tiny Pink Pills (Short Stories) Ain't life a bytch!!! [757 words]
Whacker Than Whack (Short Stories) This kinda amuses me... but, I don't know if it's the stupidity or genius of it. [778 words]
What Can I Say? (Short Stories) Hmmm... did I make this up or lift this shit? you decide. [676 words]
Dirty Apartment
Sunny

when i moved back into the apartment building i used to formerly live in i thought it would be cool. i could pick up the thread of my life from where i had left it before. it would be the same old neighborhood, my same favorite bar two blocks away and the gas station dispatching gas right behind the alley.

unfortunately i didn't get my old room, my friend whom i had subletted it to had settled into it comfortably. i got the room right next to it. it was small. it is a small room. its a room with a kitchen in a little alcove. the bathroom is in one side, though shielded by a wall. there is a tiny closet whose door jams into the bathrooms door on the left side area of the room. imagine if you will unlocking the door and coming in. a wall faces you 20 feet away. the right hand side has a wall with a set of windows at the end which look out at the backside of the buildings which row the street next to mine. the kitchen, bathroom and closet are on the left hand side. the width is 15 feet, 25 where the kitchen is. there are no counters for the kitchen, just sink, gas range and a little space which my dish rack occupies. the fridge is old but works reliabily. i put my mattress and the wooden block which goes below it in one corner of the room. i threw away its wheels and stuff. next to it i put a little table with drawers. this i use to store my checkbook, money, weed, tv and vcr remote controls and national geographic and pornographic magazines.

about a month ago i got sick of all the porn mags and what they did to me, so i decided to get rid of them. i went out one cold night and randomly stacked them on street corners. i quite enjoyed imagining the joy i was bringing people who while walking around would be able to enjoy what was previously my porn.

next to the table is a hallogenic lamp which directs its light to the roof. its very bright. next to it is a big folding table from Hechingers. currently, my computer and various papers which i accumulated during my lenghty job search occupy most of the space. i put my stereo system on the table too when i want to listen to it. when i use the computer i put it down on the floor, since it bangs my arm. there is space on the table for both things, yet i have not found the energy or the desire or the inclination to rectify what could be easily changed, even though it is more than inconvenient for me and vexes me.

the table is jammed right next to the twin windows. the view from one window is quite nice. i get to look into the back of the house across the alley from us. sometimes i see lights coming on or off in the upstairs room, but i haven't seen any of the people who live there. i have to be careful when walking around naked since i am sure they can see me too. the other window right next to the first looks on to a brick wall which is part of the apartment next door. i can look through into the apt. next door's window and see my friend and his girlfriends talking or when the curtains down fucking. i can also look upon a solitary tree which grows in our neighbors backyard. the radiator is right below the window. i've turned it off and turned the one in the bathroom on, since they are hot as hell. my telephone reposes precariously on a box full of previous writings with the answering machine lying on the radiator. this setup is necessitated by the phone jack being in that corner of the room.

i did not setup my room like most traditional people would do. arranging their furniture and possessions into patterns which they like. when i moved in all i wanted to do was get away from where i was previously and get away from myself. i didn't care about the room. basically, the room has transmorgified over time. i moved stuff around to have room to walk about diagonally. i piled boxes on top of boxes or opened them and left them there. i haven't cleaned the room since i moved in.       

 

READER'S REVIEWS (2)
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"are you writing in your journal??????? be succinct and allow the reader to use his or her imagnination by infusing their feelings into your words....there will be more of a connection for the both of you......." -- PJ.
"Sunny boy you sound like a young boy who probably left home, were mum dear done everything for your. The Weed comes into your story again. It what all young boys experiment and it goes to for the mags you mention. A young boy trying to be independent and trying to grow up. Yes, l agree boys are messy, they like beinging waited on. Life is not just about drugs, sex ect. Clean your act up, clean your life up - But still, l see your point of view and your ways of living it. " -- sweety, Ont., Canada.

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COPYRIGHT NOTICE
© 2002 Sunny
STORYMANIA PUBLICATION DATE
March 2002
NUMBER OF TIMES TITLE VIEWED
2533
 

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