Character Through Setting 2/3/09

This is the freewrite that is inspiring a current short story I'm working on.  The prompt was to describe a character's room from the point of view of another

 character.  We were given a series of choices for the person we were describing: a blind person, a convict, as well as many others.  I chose a senior on the verge of failing.  As soon as I get a solid draft of the whole thing I'm working on with these two characters, I'll put it up.

    Devin's room was as disorganized as his backpack, but this madness seemed to have method.  His bedcovers laid unrumpled, so I assumed his mom stopped caring about his room once she found about his grades.  A copy of Four G's magazine laid open on his bed.  Graffitti, Guns, Girls, and Ganja

That right there was the only magazine he needed.  His walls were covered in his own stencils he had made, the magazine clippings he intended to put up were strewn across the floor.  All his laundry, clean and dirty laid in the far left corner of his room, right next to the shelf with all the spray paint cans. 

Now that I had thought of it, he always did smell a little like spray paint.  On the ceiling was his latest piece, his personal rendition of the Sistine chapel with God passing Adam a blunt.  I realized that this must be what he did instead of school work.  There was a tiny bookshelf in this huge room of his.  Only a few books were on it.  On the Road, Party Monster, and The Kool-Aid Acid Test amongst many graphic novels.  I suggested some Ginseburg and explained that if he liked Kerouac he'd like him too.

            "Books are your thing, baby.  I'm just an artist." He'd always say.  In the middle of the floor, all of his sketchbooks were sitting there.  I grabbed one and flipped through it.  The park and his boys skating, tagging, smoking, and whatever filled nearly every page.  I flipped through every page of each book.  I found one of me.  It was just my face, big and smiling.

            I put my feet up on his skateboard and rolled it back and forth, flipping through all of his art while I waited for him to come back.