Rooms and Houses
Trying to remember rooms: the room on Mohawk Street, that tiny little cubby hole that I used as a storage area. The window out of which my cousin once told me he saw Santa flying by in his sleigh. My sister's room next door. How I cut up some rubber animal with scissors and told her it was dead and was never coming back, just to make her cry. It was the room I slept in for 12 or 14 years. There must have been a great difference in me between those two ages, but at my current age, those distant dates might as well blend together, two years into a few days. the room in LA. Two kittens, Nietzsche and Myskin. A room full of cockroaches. I wasn't even always aware until one weekend while I was away they'd called in an exterminator and when I got home, there were dead roaches everywhere. the room in Maryland somewhere, recalled because of that futon -- the idea of Keruoac and not buddhists but japanese minimalism. Sweeping the floor every day and putting the futon back...