florida_room raze this isn't just a room. it's another world, full of bamboo furniture that's kinder to my body than it needs to be. i think it might be bigger than our living room. this is where we drink non-alcoholic pina coladas and work an air pump that looks like a clothes iron, breathing life back into a shrivelled beach ball. it's where damien gets up to leave on my birthday, and instead of saying goodbye i say, "i love you, damien," without meaning to. everyone laughs. everyone but him. he doesn't love me back. we play a game where you lie on your back and stick out your legs and i lean into your feet with my chest just enough to make you believe you're holding me up, and then you push off and i send myself flying, and you giggle. because even though you're a third of my weight, in this room you have superhuman strength. as for me, i'm a monster crashing into everything, taking out flower shops and bus stops and street lights. but not pedestrians. i'm not that kind of monster. i sit at the white plastic patio table and draw a maze, scribbling a path through a network of narrow passages i've made myself. i erase the puzzle i've built and rebuild it so it can never be solved. i don't want to find my way out. i listen to "chicago 17" and queen's "greatest hits", and when "don't stop me now" plays i run through a carpeted room that's the flattest state in all of america, jumping and falling and catching myself. then the song ends and i rewind the tape so i can do it all over again. 211103 ... kerry i read this twice. delicious. 211103 ... nr my mom thought the room off the pool looked like a mix of florida and california in its decor, so she started calling it the "flornia" room. we fought that in the early days, but eventually it caught on. 211103 what's it to you? who go blather from