Places I've Slept
By Patrick McGuire, Photograph by Mark Hunter


y live-with girlfriend and I broke up for the seventh time in April, so for most of the month, I was floating around from shitty mattresses to stiff couches. It was fine. Sometimes you need to be a vagabond for a while to appreciate the comforts of independence. Or something. Here’s a run down of all the fun I had being homeless!


Normally (no offense Avery) the idea of sleeping over at Studio Gallery while Cobrasnake and Fatale Femmes are shooting pictures of themselves hugging in bathrobes would seem like the last place I would want to sleep on a Sunday evening. But, when you’re homeless, a sleepover party is PRETTY MUCH the best possible event you could see pop up on Facebook. So, after drinking more than a mickey of Bushmills and getting kicked out of Velvet Underground’s alternative rock night for throwing beer on some girls (sorry girls) I took a cab to Ourspace. Well, it was weird. If you told me in March that I would spend the night on a thin mattress, sharing a carpet-like blanket with some random girl, beside an L.A. party photographer that looks like a Jewish gnome in a silk robe, I would probably be pretty bummed. It’s funny how your standards can slip and fall.


Leave it to a guy that is essentially a comic book character to have a bunk bed setup in his room. Seriously though, this spot was key. I’m not exactly sure why Scott has a bunk bed, but anytime someone has an extra mattress, it becomes infinitely more enticing than a dirty couch. Nothing that crazy happened when I was staying here except a lot of whiskey and McDonalds. Oh, and I guess I almost greened out in the kitchen while discussing Adobe After Effects with Kavin.


I used to live here, so crashing at this spot for most of my homeless period wasn’t a big deal. That said, on Friday and Saturday nights, this is the equivalent of sleeping in a subway station that only nineteen year old girls and amateur skateboarders know about. Don’t get me wrong, those are two of my favourite types of people in the world, but it doesn’t really lend itself to a great sleep. Also, despite sleeping there for about eleven nights, I never bothered to find a pillow. Mad neck problems. One time Pat went home to Niagara Falls and Al and I slept in his bed. I woke up to Al jumping up and down, asking me if I wanted McDonalds breakfast. He’s the best dude.


Things got weird the night I slept here. I started the night at 751, DJing a rap night called ‘Bad Taste’ which was going pretty well, until I finished my set and went into the crowd to dance and be a rambunctious fuck. I accidentally bumped into this Justin Bieber looking lesbian who lightly punched me in the face - but punched me in the face none the less. I spent the next thirty minutes standing on top of a speaker, cutting the music, yelling at her to leave, and generally turning the crowd against her. Then we went to a friend’s house and some bros thew a bottle through their window. After that we ended up at Ryan Arnold’s and I woke up staring at empty Jack Daniels bottles and Bud Lite Lime cans.


After showing up at the Richard Kern exhibit for a minute or two everything seemed to fall into place at Jackie’s house. The party was going really well until I stopped remembering everything. I woke up in a relaxed daze around 5 AM and there was one other dude left wandering around in the kitchen. This is definitely the most boring story of the bunch but Katie grabbed this cell phone picture of me sleeping so I figure it’s an apt way to end the article.

Originally published in Spring 2010, Issue 4.2.