Good Friday always makes me think back to the First House of Clocks. One of the more notorious parties we had there was the Be Bad on Good Friday Party. We crucified Ian and played Pin the Nail of Jesus. I remember someone shouting "the beer's on fire!" and rushing to put out the flames. You know it's a real party when you have a beer fire.
We had music in the old tinfoil covered playroom. The old playroom was crazy. I mean, really crazy. Tinfoil walls, strange paintings along with random items screwed into the ceiling. I had written on the walls and the floors. Blissfully hopeful things and abysmally awful things. The pictures on the walls didn't match up spatially with their frames. A Twister mat was the table cloth. It was me. Me then. Strange, cluttered, mismatched, bright, stark, broken, glowing, and scary. I'm different now. I am no longer that room. I am breaking out of a chrysalis, not sure yet of what I have become.
“I finished the playroom. So that's 2 down, 2 to go.
Feeling a bit of a zombie now. I've still got quite a bit. The bedroom of course is going to be the biggest project. Still got the livingroom too.
I damaged the clock Dave made. The glitter clock. It hasn't been hanging for a while. I damaged the glitter. It was a neat clock. I think it's fixable. I'm probably going to give most of the clocks away, if not all.
“When I started this packing project there were 4 rooms witch had things that I needed to take. Those 4 rooms where the kitchen, the livingroom, the playroom, and my bedroom. I've packed everything that I needed to take out of the kitchen at this point. I just did that. The other rooms I've done quite a bit of work on but they still need to be packed. 1 down 3 to go.
The place is a mess and I'm going to come back and clean later in the day tomorrow. My 1st priority is to get everything that I'm taking to the new place then clean up the old place. I'm not going to leave this place a mess.
Hopefully I'll have another progress report later.
recoiling and I did about 4 hours of cleaning in my room. It's not done. Many times I've made significant progress only to have my room fall back before it got to the point of being clean. However, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel this time. So close I can taste it.
I'm going to clean my sheets now. I may finish the cleaning tonight or tomorrow, and if I don't recoiling will come back and help me Thursday.
I'm giving recoiling a staff as thanks for her efforts, and after she's done we're going to polyurethane it together in the playroom. She's awesome and been so incredibly unbelievably helpful. I think that my mental state will be much improved when I truly have a livable room.
As I stated in an earlier post: the old house_of_clocks, which due to its dilapidated condition was sometimes called the Crackhouse of Clocks, was completely renovated and turned into a condo a couple years after we moved out. purpleglitter and I went to the open house today to check the place out. The layout of the place was virtually the only thing that was familiar. The place is astounding, wonderful. I'd love to move back in if I could afford it. Even if I could afford it, however, the housing market is poised on the verge of a giant bubble burst and now would definitely not the time to be buying.
I accidentally banged my staff against the curb, and in the winter's cold it snapped roughly in the same place that it broke last time. It is a reminder to keep mindful and not to take things for granted as this happens again when I am becoming lost.
I will put my staff back together again, as I have put myself back together so many times. I have again used gorilla glue, and it is setting in the playroom clamped with the færie wire. I plan to put a bolt through the fracture in the very near future to better secure it. My staff will then be a merging of the city and the wild. A unity in nature.
My cane is dying. The wood is cracking more and more. It is only a matter of time before it snaps in half. It is my own fault, as I damaged it hitting myself with it. My anger is getting out of hand. I feel very trapped, and with the amount of falling down I'm doing I'm afraid that I'll feel even more trapped without a cane. I can't afford to get myself a new one.
I went out very upset. I was originally going to do bad suicidal things, but I looked over to Spy Pond and something hit me. I could find a new cane under the trees behind the fence. I walked along the fence on the muddy slope on the shore of Spy Pond. Nothing approaching anything suitable. Something told me to go a little further. There I found a twisted fallen branch. A bit too long, but it is very sturdy and just the right shape. It feels right. It feels meant to be. I thanked the tree then headed back to purpleglitter's house. I need to take the branch to the house_of_clocks and fix it up in the playroom and I will have my new cane.
i miss the playroom at the old house_of_clocks it was such a representation of me i had all sorts of things written on the wall the writings were all pieces of me angry and happy resilient and giving up my tinfoil room odd things screwed and nailed to the ceiling plastic eggshells, pictures, etc. gave it a odd feel it was shiny my tinfoil room i'd see shapes in the walls everything was bright either reflective or colorful or often both the room was where i spent most my time i miss that room it was crazy like me
I've made significant progress in cleaning my room. There is still a significant amount to do before I can call it clean. But it is in much better shape than it has been in a while. At some point in the next week, I also plan to do some work on cleaning the two problem spots downstairs: the playroom and the kitchen. The house_of_clocks will be clean by spring. That is my goal.
zarthon and purpleglitter came over for tea this afternoon. zarthon brought a gift. A SubGenius clock! Bob's holy image can now grace the kitchen walls of the house_of_clocks.
zarthon also brought lotus seed cakes to eat with the tea. The three of us sat under the playroom chandelier enjoying the tea, the cakes, and each other's conversation. Quite an delightful and picturesque way to spend an afternoon with good friends.
There are squirrels living in the walls of the house_of_clocks. They have taken up residence in the walls of the playroom and in the floor under the back of my right closet. They can be heard running about and scratching. I imagine they like living in the walls because it's much warmer than the outside.
The walls in my room are covered in tinfoil. The ceiling has pictures screwed onto it (nails wouldn't hold). I've written on the walls and the floors. And various other surreal objects adorn the walls and shelves.
I've taken the majority of the tinfoil off the walls of the playroom. Every scrap I take off hurts. I've put so much of myself into these walls. I feel they are part of me. A reflection of my soul. Even now. Being ripped apart. They are a reflection of my soul.
I'm sitting in tears in a sea of tattered tinfoil. The playroom is dying. The bare wall staring hauntingly through the gashes. I feel this room still echoes our mindscape. The House of Clocks is dying. The playroom is dying. Dying. I cry. All this is ending. I feel I must soon, as well. The end of an era. A slow, painful death. Finally, a peace must come.
Tomorrow is another day. Another sunrise. We will sleep soon. We will awaken tomorrow. But, how many more mornings shall we wake? How many more can we? No longer can I bear these things. No longer can we fight the monsters. Those of us who are still meagerly fighting. Most of us have become twisted or meek or forgotten or lost. We are fading out. Like this place. Like the House of Clocks. Like the playroom. Our days are numbered.
Sat and talked in the playroom with merrryperseis for a while last night. I found out she had never seen The Matrix! Luckily, I just happen to own a copy, and we watched it slightly stoned.
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Around midnight, purpleglitter came over. We made a late night trip to the 24 hour CVS in Porter Square to get food for the hungry kitties. It reminded me of all the late night trips we used to make when she lived here. I really miss her being in the house. I miss having someone to hug anytime I needed one. I miss her face every morning. I miss having coffee together. I miss so much about her being here. I wish she didn't have to moved.
purpleglitter cleaned my playroom today. She's so sweet. I'm really the one who is supposed to clean it. I've been procrastinating the cleaning for quite some time. I often see the playroom as a reflection of my mind. And lately playroom has been a mess, and so has my mind. I don't know if it now being clean will help me mentally. It can't hurt.
purpleglitter and I went to the video store a half-hour ago and picked up A.I., which we will soon watch. On the way back, a police officer drove by. As his car approached on the opposite side of the road, he slowed down and looked at us. He made a U-turn, and stopped beside up for a few seconds, turned around again, and left. I guess we looked sufficiently suspicious to attract his attention. I was a bit worried that we were about to be harassed, but luckily that was not the case.
I just found a razor blade sitting out in my playroom. Not one of the razor blades that I've been using. The razor blades I have been using are the little strips popped out of safety razors. They cut really well, but have trouble going deep. This is probably a good thing, as it keeps me from needing stitches.
However, the razor blade I found on the table in the playroom was a straightedge blade. Something that could go very deep. I have no idea how it got into my playroom. It probably was a floater. No one in the system has had access to such dangerous objects in quite some time. purpleglitter has helped keep us away from such things. Now this.
Worried, I quickly checked myself for new cuts — none. Whew. Regardless, I now have this rather ominously deep-cutting scary blade thing in my playroom. I don't like it.
Erika turned the room down. She said, "I'm not going to pay $400 a month to live in a room next to an alcoholic." This creates new questions. Do we rent out the playroom anyway? If we were willing to rent the playroom to Erika, shouldn't we be willing to rent it to another person? I know Erika, do I want another random person living here? Is it worth it?
mellow
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recoiling and I did about 4 hours of cleaning in my room. It's not done. Many times I've made significant progress only to have my room fall back before it got to the point of being clean. However, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel this time. So close I can taste it.
accomplished![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small}
house_of_clocks, which due to its dilapidated condition was sometimes called the Crackhouse of Clocks, was completely renovated and turned into a condo a couple years after we moved out. 
melancholy
crazy
productive
happy