So begins a dark comedy about how a sensitive guy falls for the most disgusting creatures on the planet.
I was drunk.
I remember a lot of details. I remember that the room looked like it was made of orange brick, I remember that the beds were not much larger than subway seats and were covered with ragged sheets that smelled like a mixture of stale urine and what might have been a dead cat.
I remember that the ceilings were slanting, the floors were uneven, the electricity was shot, there was a dirty sink in the kitchen, the two beds on either side of the kitchen were covered with rags, and there was an enormous cockroach crawling along the edge of the sink.
I remember that one of the main ideas of the piece was to depict what it was like for a thirty-three-year-old man to open up a place of his own in New York City.
I remember that I was on the night shift at the bar, and I had been pretty busy up until that point.
And then, I don’t know, I just remember that it was late, I’d had a few drinks, and I was alone.
I’m not entirely sure what happened.
I remember standing there in the living room, it was still dim, but bright enough to show me the ceiling, and I remember thinking, “Well, this is it. I’ve made it. This is my home.”
I remember how much I wanted to believe that.
I remember how much I wanted to believe that I would never have to go back to the place I called home in Toronto.
I remember that I had a plan for the next two months. I was going to make the best of it. I was going to make myself believe that I would be able to survive here.
And then, one night, I was caught in the midst of a blackout.
I remember that someone had passed out on the couch, and then, when I tried to go into the kitchen, I fell.
I remember feeling how light it was and how fast I fell, and then I remember how it hit the ground, and that was it.
After that, I don’t remember anything.
I remember how dark it was in the apartment, and I remember the roaches, and how they ran across my legs, how I let myself sink into them, how I let them run on my face and in my hair and in my mouth, and how the room felt filled with their awful, awful smell.
I remember feeling sorry for them.
And then, I remember them trying to eat me.
And then, I remember that I can’t remember anything after that.
I remember that, in the morning, I woke up lying 0b46394aab