where it all happens...
This is a story about getting from there to here. It began with a rather basic bedroom at my previous apartment, and ends in a space converted from a misplaced living room into the magical cavern I call home. To begin, though, the first room was average and nondescript in nearly every way except for its enormous size and slight incline (you could roll a marble down it). Nevertheless, I felt for the first time that I had found an apartment I could call "home" for awhile, so I was determined to make the bedroom special. And I did -- in fact, it was such a successful endeavour that when I moved I set myself to the task of doing it all over again.

The first attempt took just over a month of unpacking, painting, lifing, rearranging, mounting, and may I say copious perspiration, my brand new bedroom reached the point of completion. The following series of photographs depicts the evolution of my happy new home as it progressed from loveless shell to fortress of solitude. To think, it all began with three coats of delirium paint, about thirty-six heavy boxes, the better part of two paycheques, and I'm sure at least one or two highly undignified displays of me taking out my frustrations on innocent inanimate objects.

 

You see here my faithful and comfortable bed, freshly made and sporting my R2D2 pillow. Above it is my Gashlycrumb Tinies poster, a copy of the original stalking poster, a photo of Alyson, a painting by Natalie and a drawing of the human eye by Satnaum. Also featured is my infamous shelving, featuring my personal collection of sacred tokens. Each item on these shelves bears an intimate and sentimental story as to how it came into my covetous possession. It is my delight to explain the origins of the objects within my bedroom to my guests, and I always arrange my shelves to be the centre of attention.

 

You see here that focal point of inanity created by the unlikely centrepiece of my godless television set. All over Ottawa are these posters right now, featuring crudely drawn televisions which command you to do things, pointing out our dependency upon the devices. I kind of liked the basic idea, but people never seem to learn that when you make posters, "funny" counts for a lot. And most people just can't pull off funny, even when they're making an olympic attempt for an earth-shattering witticism. Anyway, my point is, I'm one of a select few people on earth who has any idea of what makes a good poster, and I like television. In this newest photo, you can see several posters belonging to another of earth's master poster-boys, as well as my coveted Darth Vader helmet, my new guitar (which I shall master), my giant croaking frog (a gift from Charlotte, atop the VCR), and as for every other single detail, well, take a look and see for yourself.

 

I consider my desk (seen below) to be one of the most important parts of my room, secondary only to my bed -- for it is at both places that, in various forms, the magic happens. You can basically now imagine having a three hundred and sixty degree walkaround of my living space, oddities, knickknacks, and all. Following that is a photo of my older brother and his fiancée, playing with our kitten, Mercy. It's included here mainly because I couldn't figure out a better page to insert it into, and I love kittens.

 

AND THEN I MOVED.

Forced to start all over again, I decided to keep what worked and change what few things there were that seemed lacking. The previous tenants had used the space as a living room, so it fell to me to pay for a frame and a brand spanking-new door to make it my own space. The decision was made because of the bizarre fact that one of the only other bedroom available to me was actually located off of the kitchen, and featured utilitarian oddities like big, green cupboards, a small sliding window, and the frickin' back door. So it seemed better suited to being our new living room than my bedroom. That said, obtaining my bedroom was a costly feat ($300 for the parts and labour), but it worked out so well for me that I have justified the expense by simply vowing never to move from this house. Anyway, it's been three years and counting as of August 2002.

The room was already partially painted purple (one wall, and the ceiling), so I decided to round out the effect by painting the opposing wall and leaving the other two white for contrast. Overall, the decor remains as distracting and heavily personalized as ever, except that the room isn't quite as monstrously large as my previous one, so the furniture is squashed together a little more. This newer, more improved room also has hardwood floors, which I feel are approximately 87 percent classier than the industrial carpeting of the old one. Also, I finally got around to buying a bed, so no more sleeping on the floor like an animal for me (or my treasured guests). You can see me below, lounging upon it and showing off the legendary godlike leg muscles.

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