Shawn: Here’s proof that our adult lives really are just mosaics of our childhood obsessions. Who hasn’t had their complete Masters of The Universe action figure collection or bedtime best friend Teddy Ruxpin drive a potential score awkwardly out the door? This is as perfect a nine-year-old’s bedroom preserved in amber as I could ever imagine. Every detail drips with tacky kiddie nostalgia: the gimme caps dangling from the bedposts, the dime store bulletin board littered with clippings, the sports and classic rock pin-ups. I admit to having cheap-ass blinds like those until I convinced my parents to let me have Voltron curtains. The patchwork wallpaper triggers “Oh Scarecrow, I think I’m going to miss you most of all!” feelings in me. Crowning touch: the crucifix strategically-placed ‘Salem’s Lot-style to keep his vampirized best friend from clawing at his window pane, full of malevolent lust in his eyes.
Steve: It’s just a photograph, but I swear I can smell Cheeze Poofs. Let’s make ham sandwiches and watch episodes of The Snorks.
File Under:Bedroom Terrors | For the hell of it
17 Responses to 'The Patchwork Boy of Oz'
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David K. publishes Nightcharm, the only gay porn site ever to be featured on Oprah and regularly compared to Martha Stewart Living.
John Calendo is the Executive Editor of Nightcharm, and a life-long Pop Critic @ Large. His work has appeared in Playboy, Blueboy and boy oh boy everything in between.
Shawn hails from New York and is a member of its young underclass, a little bit Ann Darrow, a little bit Travis Bickle.
Heather Corinna is the undisputed diva of online erotica for chicks. She publishes Scarleteen.com and is a sex guru to thousands of teenagers.
Richard writes the infamous queer blog Sturtle.com . His turn-ons include wainscoting, ZZ Top, and sharp-dressed men. Turn-offs: sectionals, pleated trousers, and pina coladas.
Steve is a lost sort of man who zones out, easily, into the foreheads of strangers. He keeps a blog of his drawings here.
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The Universe action figure collection or bedtime best friend Teddy Ruxpin drive a potential score awkwardly out the door? This is as perfect a nine-year-old’s bedroom preserved in amber as I could ever imagine. Every detail drips with tacky kiddie nostalgia: the gimme caps dangling from the bedposts, the dime store bulletin board littered with clippings, the sports and classic rock pin-ups.
This room was decorated while, clearly, while someone one was having a stroke. We have Jack Daniels, an employees only sign, the Chicago White Sox, Larry Bird, a Chicago poster, patchwork, one shade up, one shade down…..I think stroke victim basically sums it up.
I mean, this could actually be Larry Bird, the pigment of the skin is correct but on second thought the feet are not big enough. And neither is the ……….
Tex…would it be worth walking through the rest of the house just to get to this fine piece of man flesh?
The revolution will not be televised…..
…..but I bet his anal bleaching will be.
I’m in love! Not with the faceless “teenager”, but with this room. I haven’t been a regular for long here at Lurid Digs, and this is the first time I’ve seen a room where my inner interior decorator isn’t vomiting blood. In fact, the changes I would make here are so “minor” (ha ha) they’re not worth mentioning. If I were buying this home after the family disappeared under mysterious circumstance, I’d save this museum piece in tack.
Hopefully these comments won’t get me banned from posting in the future, or cause other readers to question my gayness. Would it help if I said that, if I did decorate my bedroom in this style, it would be read (sadly though accurately) as “ironic”? The whole thing makes me totally nostalgic for someone else’s past.
I don’t think this is his room, i think this is his kids room….ewww
Skip, age 34, looks forward to Casimir Pulaski Day on the first Monday of March every year, when his parents and widowed Aunt Ida go out to march down Milwaukee Avenue and have lunch at Superdawg. Skip invites all comers to ride him to their complete satisfaction, as long as they’re done by 2:15. No one ever bothered to tell him that bitch bottoms don’t collect White Sox team memorabilia; only Cubs fans are so dedicated to being fucked. Skip was eight when he moved out of his parents bedroom and into the adjacent room, following the death of Grandma Nowak. That bitch Aunt Ida ended up with the knotty pine club basement in the mid-1980s, and every day the voice in his head that tells him to hide her heart pills gets a little bit louder.
Of course this is not his room! He is obviously prostrating at the Altar of the Shrine of the Holy Hole. Sniff, sniff. Wait, it really does need the fragrance of an incense censer!
The wallpaper is giving me vertigo (I suspect even Dorothy Gale would blanch) and the window pulls of dissonant color yet identical style are equally off-putting, as is the pointless plethora of well-worn baseball caps (all sported bill-backward, I have no doubt). But it’s the blank-faced doll with the genie-bottle hat perfectly framed in the headboard and creepily peeping over the top of his ass that truly grabs me here. It looks weirdly as though his a-hole is its mouth. Yikes!
And once again: another guy who’s completely nude except for socks. What is that?
it’s a pity the central perspectice (curtain, cross, headboard of bed, orifice is so out of whack - if it wasn’t, it would make a perfect landng strip for those who desired to land there.
This is perhaps the creepiest pic I’ve yet seen at Lurid Digs, for reasons that I can’t quite identify, save for a distant feeling of vertigo and the remembered taste of Orange Dreamsicles. Ewww.
I remember being so jealous of this kid because instead of having a twin-sized bed he had his mom’s old queen-sized bed at the tender age of 8. I used to imagine how cozy and fun it would be to roll around every night on an adult-sized mattress. But now I understand that had I also had a large bed for my body to grow into, I also might have never left home like him.
this guy clearly needs to move out of his mom’s house.
Oh, Tex? would ya?
Everything we need to know about this–um, ‘hole in waiting’ has been captured within the frame of this photograph.
And it’s NOT pretty.
But we need not worry because it’s pretty safe to say that with him living at home still (and you guys are so right–he does still live with his parents). It’s highly unlikely that he would host the fuck session in that hideous claptrap. And besides, his parents and his aunt all think that he’s just saving himself for the right WOMAN to come along and rescue him.
It would surely kill them all if they knew that ol’ Roscoe really likes it in the ass.
A headless mangina. How creepy.
I think they sell those things at The Leather Rack.
That’s not just a cross boyos, that a celtic cross. I bet he dances the jig
That’s not just a cross boyos, that’s a celtic cross. I bet he dances the jig!
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