dontfeartheringo wrote:I picture Ty Webb living in a semidetached with his gf in Queens. I have a vague idea of what it looks like, though, from the photos of his dogs. This may be cheating for this thread.

Brooklyn brownstone, which isn't all that different.

I can't help but picture simmo and Dindon in the only European home I've been inside, a cramped but cozy apartment in a very old Parisian building in the 11th. Everything is tall and narrow.

This thread makes me uncomfortable. I live in the men's room at the Greyhound bus station. The bus station ain't got no Inter-net, so most days you'll see me (I'm the scruffy, smelly older gentleman in the worn-out and stained tweed jacket) at the public library, hogging the computers all day.

Sometimes when the weather is nice, I'll take my 10-year-old laptop to the little park right next to the hipster coffee shop so I can sit on a bench and feed the pigeons while leeching off the free wi-fi connection.

I start getting very strong impressions of what posters' dwellings look like after a while. Let's take a stroll through my private PRF mind garden, shall we?

Ringo - Rickety house is set about a hundred feet back from a busy two-lane highway lined with evenly spaced trees a la Cartier-Bresson, and surrounded by charmingly shabby flower gardens of varying ages. Inside, the bookshelves reveal themselves to contain nothing but well-thumbed 20th century Southern fiction. An old orchard is going to seed behind the house.

burun - Queens all the way, apartment is tidy and clean but packed way too tightly with all manner of neatly sorted and boxed photo equipment and ephemera. Beans are given pride of place in the living room and the street is full of aging crabby Jewish couples and worn-out Pakistani families.

Marsupialized - The apartment is pretty untidy but there's a friendly nest on the futon in front of the TV; when friends are not over drinking beers Marsup and missus are sending each other into hysterics at the kitchen table.

kerble - Very faint smell of gasoline. Living room is dominated by Rickenbackers and unholy tangle of patch cords, keyboards and effects modules that are constantly being broken down and set back up again. No two dishes, glasses or items of silverware match but each has a specific and well-remembered story to it.

Rick/bob - Fastidious in a way that is not really noteworthy at first but becomes more disturbing as time goes on. Walls are skim-coated smooth and painted dead white, with no paintings, prints or posters of any kind. Lots of special-purpose Ikea shelving in every room. Still has every floppy he's ever owned, neatly filed by operating system and category.

Ty - Good furniture that's way, way too clean and classy for people who own two dogs. Has a nicely finished wooden box sitting on the end table, with packs of every kind of rolling paper imaginable tucked inside it. Long walk to and from the G train puts you in a contemplative frame of mind by the time you reach the door.

DNA Concept wrote:Ty - Good furniture that's way, way too clean and classy for people who own two dogs. Has a nicely finished wooden box sitting on the end table, with packs of every kind of rolling paper imaginable tucked inside it. Long walk to and from the G train puts you in a contemplative frame of mind by the time you reach the door.

Dude, if you're still under my bed when I get home, I'm calling the cops.

Ty Webb wrote:
Dude, if you're still under my bed when I get home, I'm calling the cops.

Srsly.


like, one minor correction:

DNA Concept wrote:
Ringo - Rickety house is set about a hundred feet back from a busy two-lane highway lined with evenly spaced trees a la Cartier-Bresson, and surrounded by charmingly shabby flower gardens of varying ages. Inside, the bookshelves reveal themselves to contain nothing but well-thumbed 20th century Southern fiction [and the wife's Shakepeare library]. An old orchard is going to seed behind the house.

The evenly spaced trees that line the driveway are cherry trees.

The orchard is pecan trees.

Uncanny!

Though I don't walk to the G train. If I walk, it's from the A/C train to home and if it's after dark, I'm only contemplating the best way to look over my shoulder and where I'm going at the same time.

DNA Concept wrote: kerble - Very faint smell of gasoline.

I LOL'd

Ty Webb wrote:Dude, if you're still under my bed when I get home, I'm calling the cops.

You even know what color pumps I wear!

I imagine Boombats has an enormous collection of both sexual torture devices and taxidermied animals in ferocious poses in his bedroom.
And at least one BC Rich in disrepair. There may be a dead human or dead human parts in a freezer. Giant blacklight wizard/weed themed poster won at a carnival on the wall.

Nerblybear, I bet it's a lot of silk and lace. A sexy Atlanta firemen calender on the wall near the computer. Stuffed animals everywhere. Sex in the city DVD set on the coffee table, bowflex in the corner. A ridiculous amount of lotions and perfumes and exotic lubrications in the washroom. Just a real creepy scene.

HGM, I bet it's just a bare matress on the ground. Beer cans and pizza boxes everywhere. Walls covered in dirt and grime. Laptop sittting on the bed. You open a closet and it's filled with thousands of dollars in top notch designer clothes and shoes.

Kerble, I imagine he lives aboard a private jet constantly circling the Chicagoland area. I see him having at least 12 servents and private assistants swirling around him at all times putting papers in front of him for him to sign. He screams at them and berates them constantly but gives them a nice Christmas bonus.