As I sit here, I am listening to Atom Heart Mother, rapidly bouncing one knee, and snuffing my nose (out, not in).
Next to my monitor is a Nintendo with the top off, and various instruments of electronic torture sticking out from it. Next to that is a completely useless collection of carefully flattened York Peppermint Patty wrappers, and a wrinkled sheet of paper covered with lines and symbols. "LDA $0A, ASL, ASL, ASL, ASL, TAY, LDA $0C, ASL, TAX, LDA $0800,X, TAX, JSR [sub1]," etc. Covering half the page is a huge zero-page chart, and my blinking modem rests behind it against the wall.
My hard drive is quietly humming on the shelf above me, and hanging from the ceiling is a phone cord. Against the far wall, in a corner, is a tiny spider web. Ever since I got home from school, I've watched that spider wrap up a huge fly and slowly suck it's guts out. Whenever I sneeze or cough the web flies about madly as if in a typhoon, but the spider never detaches himself from the fly. Closer inspection reveals that this meager web is coated with a thick blanket of dust and hair. This spider must have a hard life, and is now feasting.
Below the spider web is a paper sack filled with snotty toilet paper... The refuse of my war with the flu. At the ready, a fresh roll of toilet paper sits on the edge of the table behind me. Next to it, the charger silently charges my walkman batteries.
The cat pokes her head around the corner of the stairway, and then trots into the hallway, out of sight again. Next to my modem is propped a framed painting of a cool looking grey tomcat, standing in empty space before a red background. The painting is signed "Greg".
The tile floor is spattered with dirt and sunflower seeds, and wires snake in and out of the mess and hang from my desk in tangles.
I consider going to bed, then consider staying up, then decide to go to bed after I stay up some more. My problem thusly solved, I log onto XBBS.