My life of late has been a moderately strange whirlwind. I moved, for one. Ten blocks down the road, closer to the ocean and a market that doesn't close, but further from everything else. I feel good about that. The fog horns I could hear bellowing melancholy from my old room are closer now. The raccoons and skunks that occasionally ventured near my old block reside out here in force. Sitting on the back steps at night (yes, this place has a backyard. I can't possibly express how happy I am about that), I am often joined by a set of glowing eyes, furtively navigating along the fence and scampering along a rooftop on some errant errand. It's comforting. My room itself is a small thing. About eight feet square, and ergonomically packed with my desk and shelves. It's perfect for my purposes, and the house it's in is populated by fantastic folks. All in all, it's been a very suitable change of surroundings.
In odd coincidence, the move came almost exactly one year since moving to this city. I have this very strange tendency. In the past eight or nine years, I have not lived in one place for longer than a year. It's never my intention to vacate after a set period, but the only place I've remained in for longer was the winnebago (which was only a year and a half). I hope this place sees me staying for longer, but the fates are capricious.
I haven't been painting or writing much of anything, but I also feel that this is changing as I settle in. As I say, things have been a pretty constant whirlwind of activity, leaving little room for repose. But I have got some things done. This for instance-
Other things are in the works. I got a pile of stuff framed, and my art show is on for September, starting on the first and my crap will be up all month. That gives me some time to put together a tweed suit.
SLOTHS!
ReplyDelete