Leave discouraging messages in fortune cookies. Call them misfortune cookies. Apply the same idea to the discarded message in a bottle. I have stared through the bottom of hundreds if not thousands of bottles and have never found a message of comfort. The prevailing message: to grab another beer. Brewskis with the broskis....
Roses with hands made of weeds wrap around the double neck of a poorly drawn guitar. There are two sages in the corners, casting dirty spells. Rum advertisement although I've never had the brand. Stumptown coffee roaster postcards, stolen accidentally from the location downtown near the food carts. Magazine tear out of Omar Rodriguez Lopez. My guitar in the corner below with a bandana wrapped around the top. The source of my power. A token from someone I once loved. These words seem dry. Erasing punctuation now because this is about the flow of ideas rather than correction english, the strings are old and truthfully i dont know who the bandana belongs to. it is kind of a table cloth rainbow design and has been tied around the top of 'chenae' for nearly a year. maybe it was the night she left her clothes in the hallway/kitchen and we exchanged horrible stories about our families, waking up naked without having even kissed. some confounding variable. something we never saw happening again because we tended to give into foul temptation other times, never more graphic than a comic book. beside the guitar on the wall to my left is a strange little lyrical poster i made with words from the song 'sweet talk' by dear and the headlights. this was made in the heat of some sort of passion. i must have been sad and stoned and angry at whatever i was drawing so i wrote straight over it. the failure of a bouquet enters the background. on notecards quotes from thoreau and palahniuk. above a giant grateful dead poster that defies easy description. to its right is a stolen poster of buddha in his meditative pose surrounded by a sort of symmetry attributed to a mandala. a tattoo possibility. a mandala. buddhism. big shit. not bad to remember to be nice to people and peaceful. bad expression of character to say i need a reminder like this. speakers on top of stacked drawers. top drawer full of odds and ends. passport and headphones. sometimes money and candles. this assumes the role a desk drawer would have. hand sanitizer. a buck knife. duct tape. cds and cd cases. a picture of my dad and i in the woods. near a river. wine and cheese and marijuana. a box from haiti with my name carved into it. there are fortunes inside of it. a tiny paper crane. toothpicks. a mug used to hold change and my wallet and my keys. behind me is a fear and loathing in las vegas poster. just above my head, the wall i am leaning against. in front of me are my feet on my desk and my window. the blinds are almost always closed because the sun blinds me if i sit here while it is out. in the dark i feel like i am being watched, backlit, while they are shrouded in darkness. whoever they are, the bastards. i have a semi-color-coordinated giant calendar on my desk. a lap top case that says ASU in the corner. a color coordinated agenda with full semester syllabuses fleshed out from here until may. my biological anthropology textbook. my art of the story, intro to fiction book. a gatorade bottle with water filled up halfway up the label. i broke my water bottle by accidentally freezing it and then trying to break the ice apart. ended up cracking the side open. a mug with my favorite cat printed on it. full of pens and crayons and a pair of scissors. dusty lamp with vibrating light. gluestick, erasor, and hand held pencil sharpener. bottom level of desk has the other textbooks and art supplies. a few old psychology todays. (lets call them psychology yesterdays). some printer paper. a power strip. a small trash can with vanilla scented trash bag. my backpack is on the ground. next to it, under the bed is a collage in progress on drawing paper. two different incarnations of buddha hang out on the headboard of my bed. watching over things. a white bandana is tied to the post for no symbolic reason. above it two more note cards. must not sleep. must warn others. above all of this is a huge american flag with three tacks because when i turned the fan on it made an almost sexual slapping sound because of the air pocket, other side of bed is my sisters first painting, shoes and fire and a river, on the wall to my right is my closet which has sliding mirrors. i can see myself now i wished to look over there. for some reason when i am singing or playing guitar i look to see what i look like. im sure if i was with a girl in this empty bed i would be equally curious. could i be camera worthy. inside closet. longboard, laundry, tiny fan, best dad ever sweater, suitcase, t shirts, ties, back heater, to right of closet, shelves. books and old homeworks, miscellaneous hats and painting materials, weird christmas gifts, a frisbee, linens and a cooler that may still have water balloons in it. its only use thus far. there is also a dreamcatcher on my ceiling. a weird retro absinthe poster. a small drawing of mount rainier. the door to my bathroom. and the door to the outside. i can see the fridge from the second door. the first door i can see my van gogh poster. that is all for now
