I woke up this morning excited about fixing up my new room.
It's small –– about 7' x 11' –– but bright yet cool:
you can't see in these photos, but leafy trees shade the windows on both sides and filter out grit from the busy street.
A smoker lived there before Marz, and the residue lingers, so I'm going to enjoy washing the room right away. You can see the cracked floor needs big help too.
It's too damp to paint though: right now, at 10 o'clock in the morning, the humidity's higher than the temp (74ºF + 79 % humidity).
And I haven't chosen a paint color yet.
I think I'll turn it into a sewing room.
Art is the acceptance of solitude, Louise Bourgeois said--what better transformation of this room? And sewing is a cluttered business, I've discovered: all that thread and fabric are a real space suck.
But for now, I'm leaving it empty, to revel in the open space. Marz and I were packed in like sardines for four years.
One thing I won't change:
In an astounding act of self-sacrifice, Marz left hanging on the wall her framed glossy of Paul Michael Glaser and David Soul on the set of Starsky & Hutch.
(Thank you, Marz!)
She knew it was the object of my desire.
I don't care about the show itself, but something about the actors' impossible 70's California cool rivets me.
What world was that?
OK, yes, it was an illusion, but it was a real one.