Thursday, June 17, 2004

Adios, Johnny Bravo

  • Glenn’s desk.
  • My grandpa’s pen holder.
  • My mom’s potted azalea.
  • Nate’s futon mattress.
  • The futon frame from Helen and Valerie’s living room.
  • Conchita Ramirez, the hanging plant I named after Edith’s alter ego.
  • Hillary O’s nightsand and chair.
  • Grandma’s lamp.
  • The Christmas garland Kami made from the forty-ounce beer cans.
  • The circumferential shelf Glenn built for the train track that used to go around this room — which, for practical purposes, I still refer to as Monique and Taryn’s room.
  • Shanna’s chest of drawers.
  • Nate’s chest of drawers.
  • My dad’s old ties.
  • Deer antlers from a buck my great-grandpa shot.
  • The pea green "Kermit" blanket I stole from my house in Hollister.
  • Brie’s beta, Jean-Pascal.
  • Works the Dinosaur, which Jessica gave me for my birthday last year.
  • Taryn’s block of silicone.
  • The white bookcase Beth left.
  • And a plastic pineapple cocktail mug I inherited from God knows who.
I look around my room. Like it or not, it is a memorial to people I don’t get to see often enough. I’m comfortable now because I have pieces of them — furniture, appliances, whatever. I don’t care so much that most of what’s in my room isn’t one-hundred percent mine.

No comments:

Post a Comment