Eric's Throne

Back in the daze, Eric had the best overstuffed chair on the planet. A massive cupped hand of cushions and frame that sucked you in and handed you an invitation to stay a week or two. It magnified gravity and pulled your ass back down if you even thought about getting up. It sang a sirens song enticing anyone close to give in, give up, and just relax for a very... long... time. That Goodwill gem, the envy of his peeps, made the other dorm rooms seem cold and uninviting by comparison. Of course it also fueled a search for copycat luxury. With an imposing footprint and demanding nothing less than center stage, other furniture in Eric's room blended into an innocuous background. As for Eric, Eric looked like a king on his throne... or, in his throne actually. His king's gold, mostly Acapulco, was hidden deep around the cushions. Eric could reach down and pull out smoke, papers, matches, maybe an ashtray or two, all the necessities to entertain himself and others. I imagined that he had an unlimited cache of survival supplies stuffed down within arm's reach...food, drink, money, books... Very likely there was a bit of magic at play that allowed him to actually pull out anything he wished for. He sat in a magician’s top hat in the form of a huge overstuffed chair.

We came to him, gathering in his room for music, talk and play. A motley crew of Northern interlopers in a little Southern town. A group of misfits trapped aboard a ship sitting stagnant in hostile waters. But Eric's room was a place of comfort, a refuge for friends, ideas, and music. At those times, all was good with the world as Eric held court from his magic chair, his home away from home.