Shawn: There’s a schism of self happening here, as if a Lost Boy were fumbling toward maturity without quite being able to leave callow youth behind him. The burnished wood bureau, dresser, and nightstand are noble attempts — with the sore-thumb amassment of all manner of clocks insinuating a latent fixation on the inexorable passage of time — but they’re undone by the more puerile elements. The head-to-toe A&F duds (really, the male variation of Forever 21) are ten years outdated on anyone. Then there’s the mall art, whose tableau of colors have the eerie effect of spilling forth into reality and onto the too-pillowy bed. Teddy bears and various poppets have developed into such instant shorthand for interior calamity here on Lurid Digs that by now they’re spoken of in the same manner that bed-wetting is for serial killers. Natch, no Wonderland is complete without its resident Jabberwock menace, here embodied in the shape of the window-adjacent Triffid — docked for the meantime but still ever-bent on escaping its captivity at the opportune moment when its keeper’s back is turned after forgetting its yearly sting-pruning.
 

File Under:Bedroom Terrors

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Richard: This is not the sort of photo I like to see first thing in the morning. Before the coffee and Cocoa Puffs kick in, I thrive on The Obvious, but this? This is Sublime. It’s postmodern mannerism — like Madonna with the Long Neck, or Madonna with the Long, Ropey Arms. Which is to say, everything’s normal at first glance, but look again, and it’s all just a tiny bit off.

Example: why is every flat surface covered in fabric? Did our new friend blow his home furnishings budget on lottery tickets and Night Train, then decorate with cardboard boxes? (I did the same thing in college, and that’s how I “hid” it.) And as a follow-up: why are dude’s fabric choices so … well, there’s really no adjective for it besides “ugly”, is there? I mean, apart from “random”, “uninspired”, “matronly”, “dated”, “mismatched”, and “half-price day at the remnant bin”. Also, if I’m reading this photo correctly, someone really likes his white athletic socks.

Remember how in Jackie’s Back someone says that white people smell like wet potato chips? I know in my heart of hearts that THIS ROOM SMELLS LIKE WET POTATO CHIPS.

Jeff: The only thing missing is a half-eaten tin of seafoam green hard candy.

File Under:Bedroom Terrors

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Shawn: This is the Pit & The Pendulum interpreted bad trick-style; each element offers up more terrifying menace and promises no possibility of escape. The hyper-florid drapes are the sort I’d expect from some Park Avenue dowager, and combined with the almost plush-looking wall paint, it all just makes me want to pop a Claritin®. As for the couch it’s, frankly, fucking humongous, with the asymmetrical-on-tope pattern screaming Florida, “Grandma’s ranch home,” and “1986″ at high decibel. The lone saving grace: the curtain tiebacks, that, in the event of a violent home invasion, could double as ninja stars.

Anonymous: Interesting. An entire room designed around the smocks of Bea Arthur (may she rest in peace).

File Under:Living Room Wreckage | Suffocating Sofas

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David K.: I’m bothered by the Panda motif that adorns this bedroom. The cluster of stuffed toy Pandas atop the bookshelf and more alarming, the central Panda wall hanging. (Is that a blanket or a mock tapestry — or both!?) The link between Panda bears and China is undeniable. And so I must ask: Is this, as Glenn Beck points out — now that he wears an art critic’s cap atop his monstrous meat head, another example of subversive art, the very sort of art that is gaining a foothold in our country? More advocacy for the communist path that Obama is leading us down? I shudder to think. I really do.

Richard: Something about this photo makes me want to belt a tune, but all that comes to mind is “O Panda Bear” — sung to “O Canada”, of course. Maybe that’s because the room looks like it belongs in a basement or a root cellar or someplace else that’d be warm and cozy on long, Canadian winter nights. Take a look: it all adds up. Lively afghan = snuggly! Blackout curtain (probably just another afghan) = mancave! Wood paneling = cocoa at the alpine ski lodge! Vast assortment of fur = wig closet! (Oh, like you don’t have one.) I’m overcome by the urge to curl up in a ball, bring the metabolic rate to a screeching halt, and live off my own body fat until the icepack melts. Or possibly enjoy a York Peppermint Pattie.

Matter of fact, I’m guessing that “Today’s Tom Sawyer” here takes a few long winter’s naps himself, right on this very bed. Which would explain the need for three dreamcatchers.

File Under:Bedroom Terrors | Marvelous Mancaves

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