The School of Rock...
When I was falling apart with CFS, I was still in college, and I also had a job as a publisher of a small magazine. And, my personal life was in a crisis. So, I went through 11 roommates - 12 actually - before I took a plane to Philly in one last ditch to jump-start my life. Wait - make that 13. Woops.
First house: Depressive female student who played the violin; a black female student from Africa; a type-A feminist student who liked me and then didn't, and some white guy. Next house: One female linguistics major and one little rich blonde Jewish girl I really liked. Next set-up: A dorm apartment shared with a dude from Virginia who spent much of his financial aid on a massive stereo system. I might have the order mixed up, but at one point I roomed with a very quite Singapore student in a house which then exploded in cockroaches. Final house: Lived with girl who was a student and a bartender, and two student guys from Atlanta.
Each of these residences only lasted one semester, max, (and a few maybe only a month or two). At the final house, we instantly got along, so that the girl used the bathroom while I was in the shower. Well, she was from progressive Wisconsin, while the two guys were rather grumpy lumps of the urbane variety. One was a Jewish guy, who let loose with his subversive sense of humour when we were around the girl. I just laughed while the girl got irritated.
But, he used to criticise musicians on TV or radio, especially singers. And the other guy seemed ever more stolid. However, sometimes at night, I would hear him through the heat vent, playing this really luscious guitar music.
Once, I had to load all the mags in our front hallway, where they say, getting whittled down as I gradually shipped them out. These two insistently straight guys must have seen or read the gay material in the mags, and so they got a little offish towards me. But the girl was great.
Once, her younger sister, who was a senior in high school, stopped by, and was looking around in her sister's bedroom. I walked by and saw her, so we chatted briefly. She was so hot. Just what I was looking for! Except the HS stuff. Flowing curls of brandy brown hair, and fit as whistle, he haw. But it was never to be. Soon, I would be leaving.
One night, amongst others, I played my mean blue rock harmonica in my bedroom, along with the radio, singing here and there - like a true monster.
The guitar guy started playing through the vent, and it was a battle of the bands. The next day, they were in awe of me. Because I don't walk around with an ego - I am low key - so they never saw this coming. Anyway, I packed what I could, and finally left for Philadelphia. I had to leave one item that was way to large to carry: A framed diagram of the entire history of rock and roll, branching out like a tree. That was a gift from a sister of mine, and I never had the heart to tell her, I had to let it go. It's a long way to the top, if you wanna rock and roll.
I think, maybe, I should have stayed. We all could have started a band. I could have married Brittany. Instead, I ended up homeless and paralyzed in a hidden cave surrounded by a river full of syringes. Sometimes, I'd crawl out to buy a coffee, and walk like a shadow, through the streets...
First house: Depressive female student who played the violin; a black female student from Africa; a type-A feminist student who liked me and then didn't, and some white guy. Next house: One female linguistics major and one little rich blonde Jewish girl I really liked. Next set-up: A dorm apartment shared with a dude from Virginia who spent much of his financial aid on a massive stereo system. I might have the order mixed up, but at one point I roomed with a very quite Singapore student in a house which then exploded in cockroaches. Final house: Lived with girl who was a student and a bartender, and two student guys from Atlanta.
Each of these residences only lasted one semester, max, (and a few maybe only a month or two). At the final house, we instantly got along, so that the girl used the bathroom while I was in the shower. Well, she was from progressive Wisconsin, while the two guys were rather grumpy lumps of the urbane variety. One was a Jewish guy, who let loose with his subversive sense of humour when we were around the girl. I just laughed while the girl got irritated.
But, he used to criticise musicians on TV or radio, especially singers. And the other guy seemed ever more stolid. However, sometimes at night, I would hear him through the heat vent, playing this really luscious guitar music.
Once, I had to load all the mags in our front hallway, where they say, getting whittled down as I gradually shipped them out. These two insistently straight guys must have seen or read the gay material in the mags, and so they got a little offish towards me. But the girl was great.
Once, her younger sister, who was a senior in high school, stopped by, and was looking around in her sister's bedroom. I walked by and saw her, so we chatted briefly. She was so hot. Just what I was looking for! Except the HS stuff. Flowing curls of brandy brown hair, and fit as whistle, he haw. But it was never to be. Soon, I would be leaving.
One night, amongst others, I played my mean blue rock harmonica in my bedroom, along with the radio, singing here and there - like a true monster.
The guitar guy started playing through the vent, and it was a battle of the bands. The next day, they were in awe of me. Because I don't walk around with an ego - I am low key - so they never saw this coming. Anyway, I packed what I could, and finally left for Philadelphia. I had to leave one item that was way to large to carry: A framed diagram of the entire history of rock and roll, branching out like a tree. That was a gift from a sister of mine, and I never had the heart to tell her, I had to let it go. It's a long way to the top, if you wanna rock and roll.
I think, maybe, I should have stayed. We all could have started a band. I could have married Brittany. Instead, I ended up homeless and paralyzed in a hidden cave surrounded by a river full of syringes. Sometimes, I'd crawl out to buy a coffee, and walk like a shadow, through the streets...
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