Pyschostasia was the name Ryan and I gave our room on Grove Avenue. Psychostasia was the name given by anthropologists to the ancient Egyptian belief that the heart at death was placed on a balance by the god Thoth and weighed against a feather. If the heart was lighter than the feather its owner could enter the underworld. My heart weighs a ton.
Ryan is gettin' Freudian in the other photo.
Some highlights from this room:
ReplyDelete-James Taylor is "feeling fine" while Ryan wretches off the side of the bed
-Jesus in the Xmas lights
-our X-Ray tree
-my brother and Tom declaring Lionel Bart a genius
-The "fort" of Ryan's mattress protected by a wall of clothes, cigarette butts, cereal bowls, and school books
- Pete Y. refusing to get up off the floor during our house warming party . . . we later learned it was on account of he'd wet his pants, somehow.
ReplyDelete- That was the same night Joe passed out upstairs on the neighbor's stoop, in his boxers. We introduced ourselves when they came down to ask if he belonged to us.
- Laughing cacaphonically at the Chucky Cheese poster, stoned off my ass with Adam. Meghan P., who had never smoked before, looked on bewildered, but patient.
Wish I still had the Jose Faliciano record. With an artist like Jose, you don't get any complaints.
And it was the god-awful bees on the Winnie the Pooh record that drove me to hurl in the whicker waste basket.
Then came James. :-)
- Ry
Yeah, pretty much a wild pack of family dogs is what y'all were.
ReplyDeleteand
He speaks!
Ryan refusing to let the pizza man in because he had a knife...
ReplyDeleteFirst, let me say, Ryan welcome back!
ReplyDeleteThe bees, yes the bees! That was the same night also when I realized there were 3 things crackling at one moment. Your cigarette being dragged, the record needle, and the bowl of Rice Krispies on your lap.
We did end up letting the pizza man in, and later Chris would come home to inform us that the sauce in the pizza we had nearly devoured was completely RANCID.
Next to Chuck E. Cheese on the wall was that cross-section drawing of a brain you had done. I loved that.
The house warming began with us in Chris's future room, nothing in the apartment except a stereo and a rug, sweating and listening to the Orb under a red light.
The pizza man fed us battery acid. I was right to insist he had a knife. He was trying to kill us.
ReplyDeleteThat was the same night I had to lead tom hand-in-hand across our roof . . . because he had to step in the right cubes.