Rooms and Houses
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. I couldn't afford the sofa frame it was supposed to fit over.
the room in Virginia where I lived for six months or so, a garden housing project in the suburbs. Needed a car for that place. I fucked the black woman from the kitchen in that bed one night. I had a lot of anxieties. I was unsure of myself and my existence. Later on, I tried to move on to my new life without giving notice and the co-tenant hit me over the head with a lead pipe, knocking me out cold. Part of my head needed to be shaved to put in the stitches. I woke up in the hospital and called the only person whose number I knew by heart, Surina, to come and pick me up.
the room in Georgetown, the basement flat with Claudia. Not so much the room or the neighbourhood but the French shop nearby where I would go and get French coffee and Galloises plus an outdated copy of Le Monde.
let's go back to Mohawk Street. Is it accurate to remember that we entered often in the side door rather than the front door? If you entered through the side door, you had the stairway to the basement to the left and then, mounting some more stairs, the door opened to the kitchen. I remember a photo of you coming home covered in black oil or something. I remember you having to work while others went on strike. I remember ma driving you one morning to work with us in the car and everyone was scared because there was a drunk driver on the road, swerving all over the place. The kitchen had a table for four. To the right was the sink. I remember a man coming to try and sell us some sort of water purifier. I can't remember why it was agreed that he could come in to make his pitch. Beyond the kitchen was a pantry. In the pantry I remember two things: a bottle of Boone's Farm and how the cupboards or drawers were lined with old newspapers where I found the NBA standings with Lew Alcindor (before he changed to Abdul Jabbar) playing for the Milwaukee Bucks. I don't know why I remember that detail. Next to the kitchen was the dining room where the big stereo system was with an 8-track player. I remember listening to the Beatles and the Carpenters and Pinball Wizard. If you looked out the window you might see the house next door belonging to who? The Lincolns or the Links? The daughter was a teacher who I had in high school math and failed miserably, Trigonometry. I cannot remember her name. Have YOU got any particular memories of Mohawk Street, the house? I remember your alcove to study chess but that's about it, the closet in the master bedroom where you had a guitar that you didn't play any more on some elevated plane inside the closet....
In the living room I remember sitting Saturday mornings with my father watching the Shhh show. Cartoons, etc. I remember watching pro wrestling on Saturday mornings with him as well. Campbell's split pea soup and maybe a grilled cheese sandwich.Up the stairs was to the left, the master bedroom, to the right my room then also to the right, Amy's room. Then there was the bathroom which I remember very little about other than being slammed against its door, taken by the neck collar, grabbed and slammed with threats against me by my father. Threats of larger violence. What had I done? I can't ask him. I did something that he perceived as a threat to my mother or an insult, I dunno. I remember Amy often crying for her parents because I was teasing her.
The Chilsons, on Parcells Avenue. The grandfather wrote 'the management' on a sign on the door to get in. There was a big big backyard that I didn't have to mow, where I could run and play alone like a maniac. No one ever came out there to play with me. I don't remember any kids my age in that house. It was always the adults, the smokers, the drinkers, playing cards. So many holidays were spent playing cards after eating. Watching sports.
The Sandles in Albion: remember little, the train tracks, the coin you could put there to be flattened by a train. The canals.
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