Sunday, November 20, 2005


Lily and I live in two-bedroom apartment that many would consider "tasteful."

I had nothing to do with it.

Although I did contribute the sickly futon in the living room, which is more about nostalgia than practical living at this point. Having used it all throughout college, I insisted that it moved in with us serving as an identifier, or a landmark, that the apartment is mine too in some capacity. I'm concerned that my being here, living with Lily, I serve purely as her accessory. That I am not unlike the Danish Modern lamp sitting on the Oakwood endtable. My insistence that the futon stays is an active way of actually existing. While I'll eventually throw it out (it's not like I'm in love with it), in the meantime, I have a weird feeling that it threatens Lily and her mocha leather couch. Which is creepy if you think about it. I mean, it's just a futon. With a lot of unidentifiable stains.

Today is a Sunday and Lily is still sleeping. She tends to sleep late which is not something I mind--she works hard and deserves a restful weekend. It's just not something I can do. While I'm generally not in a rush to wake up either, I find it really hard to simply lie in bed, stare at the ceiling, and wonder about stuff. I would much rather sit on this futon, without distractions, and wonder how it is exactly that someone like me, someone as non-confrontational and uncaring as I am...why was i given this massive amount of responsibility?

Because, seriously, I am so not into saving the world right now.


Anonymous SupPhoto said...

Nice man...I like where you're headed with this.

2:59 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home