Ah, laundry time! The weekly ritual of smoking cigarettes, drinking mass amounts of coffee, and deep global probing.
My old apartment is abnormally quiet today besides the soft gurgling sounds of the coffee maker reverberating off the walls of the barren second floor that was once our livingroom. All that remains is a futon, computer, and a card table.
Looking back at all the foolish things that we did this apartment stands as a monument to our dysfunctional relationship. Excess I guess would be the word to sum it up.
Why did two people need a three story building all to them selves? Was it her need to impress others, my need for a studio space, or an unspoken need to escape from the other?
Then there was the partying. Halloween 2003, our first month in Chicago. We were living in a huge loft on Milwaukee. Being that we only knew eight or nine people (all Detroit transplants as well) we decided to throw the Halloween party to end all parties period!
We removed all the furniture and set up an elaborate lighting scheme complete with black and strobe lights. To up the ante we got a smoke machine and LCD projector for playing old B horror flicks. Spent so much time preparing that I never a chance to get a costume. But the end result was amazing. We had succeeded in turning our loft into a private night club for one night. Around 3:00 AM our downstairs neighbor came up to tell us that the ceiling looked like it was going to collapse from all the people dancing. At one point there had to have been at least 60 or more people crammed in to the 1800 square foot loft. I have never experienced a house party of this magnitude or extremes, and probably never will again.
Shortly after we started going out four or five nights a week, drinking top shelf liquors and micro brews until neither of us could stand and rolling in the door as the sun rose. As time went on there became no real substance between us besides the ones we abused. Sure those were fun times but what were we really doing? Was it about having fun, or were we just running from the inevitable? We all know the outcome.
I guess the road of excess does lead to enlightenment.
Fuck it, I have no regrets.
"Now we must pick up every piece,
of this life we use to love.
If only to keep our selves at least,
enough to carry on." (NMH)
I'm quite wired right now so this may not be that coherent...
My old apartment is abnormally quiet today besides the soft gurgling sounds of the coffee maker reverberating off the walls of the barren second floor that was once our livingroom. All that remains is a futon, computer, and a card table.
Looking back at all the foolish things that we did this apartment stands as a monument to our dysfunctional relationship. Excess I guess would be the word to sum it up.
Why did two people need a three story building all to them selves? Was it her need to impress others, my need for a studio space, or an unspoken need to escape from the other?
Then there was the partying. Halloween 2003, our first month in Chicago. We were living in a huge loft on Milwaukee. Being that we only knew eight or nine people (all Detroit transplants as well) we decided to throw the Halloween party to end all parties period!
We removed all the furniture and set up an elaborate lighting scheme complete with black and strobe lights. To up the ante we got a smoke machine and LCD projector for playing old B horror flicks. Spent so much time preparing that I never a chance to get a costume. But the end result was amazing. We had succeeded in turning our loft into a private night club for one night. Around 3:00 AM our downstairs neighbor came up to tell us that the ceiling looked like it was going to collapse from all the people dancing. At one point there had to have been at least 60 or more people crammed in to the 1800 square foot loft. I have never experienced a house party of this magnitude or extremes, and probably never will again.
Shortly after we started going out four or five nights a week, drinking top shelf liquors and micro brews until neither of us could stand and rolling in the door as the sun rose. As time went on there became no real substance between us besides the ones we abused. Sure those were fun times but what were we really doing? Was it about having fun, or were we just running from the inevitable? We all know the outcome.
I guess the road of excess does lead to enlightenment.
Fuck it, I have no regrets.
"Now we must pick up every piece,
of this life we use to love.
If only to keep our selves at least,
enough to carry on." (NMH)
I'm quite wired right now so this may not be that coherent...
VIEW 6 of 6 COMMENTS
Thanks for sharing your situation with me. It's so helpful to have people to talk to about this nonsense!