Brooklyn NY was lovely but the perfectly normal chaos of the city still rattled my few remaining brain cells like a Automobile-CD-Player-On-A-Rough-Road-Skippity-Skippity. Imagine trying to write about electricity and electrons and motors while, outside, you have a conversation going on a squeaky scaffold:
"HEY MARCOS!"
"QUE PASA?"
"SU ESPOSA, HEH? ELLA VIENE CON NOSOTROS A CENAR?"
"I DUNNO YET!"
So, I was down in Georgia on November 2nd or so, when I called my long-ago first girlfriend and her mom the amazing octogenarian, "can I stay with you guys this winter?"
"Of COURSE, you're FAMILY."
Here is the studio set-up, as of this morning. That door to the right plummets you down the stairs:
The stairs are on the right. This dining area has no electricity. You use kerosene lamps or candles. My cactus is taking a breather on the window sill to the left. The door on the right leads into the kitchen:
The kitchen has a dog on the floor (112 human years old), an assortment of incredibly dangerous heavy cast iron pans that sometimes decide to drop. The wood stove is just visible at the far end next to the door that has seen hundreds of cords of wood pass over its threshhold:
Over that door, blocked in the prior picture, is one of thousands of pieces of quirky art that litter the house and property:
Perfectly bad photograph of the living room which has stone walls and a stone fireplace:
Artier picture of the living room mirror showing you the luxuriant thirty year-old plants blocked by the cat-rent lampshade in the prior picture:
View out the kitchen window towards the lattice fence and shed:
Here is the Yamaha upright piano with a quite excellent lower end but worn action in the mid-octaves and I need to tune it AGAIN now that we have this seasonal change. My next tune is going to be audited by a true pianist in the coming weeks. I will let you know my score. I told him, "be merciless, you don't want me to run amok about the country tuning other pianos incorrectly" :
This conversation with the pianist/carpenter, by the way, occurred at the general store down on 28-A where many many many years ago, Amy and I used to buy breakfast fixings before I would drive back to Los Angeles where I ran my business. She has decades-long devoted friends many of whom remember me from twenty friggen years ago, some from only 15 years ago when I built the big lattice fence over the summer after I shut down my business for good.
OK, art supplies! Unpack tonight!
First diagram is dedicated to Meg/cheesehead,
The Hot-Start Relay, weeks and weeks too late!
First painting is dedicated to dtrumbo, Kids Staring At Bus Engine (I hope he *really like$ it*)
Colin
