I am sitting in my sun room, finally using it for something other than growing plants and airing out old magazines. A few weeks ago, I bought an old school desk for $3 (an old… school desk, not an 'old school' desk, although technically both are probably the same). It's storming outside, and the drip-drip-plop-plop calms me.
It's amazing how easily old things make me happy. This soul was meant for a different era. My furniture is half assemble-it-yo'self garbage that serves its purpose, but it isn't what I'd like in my nest. The rest is mostly midcentury: a Heywood Wakefield side table, a dull maroon vinyl sofa, a blue Eames swivel chair ($5!), a "cities of the world" folding table, the aforementioned desk. Materialism aside, these pieces are comforting; they erase evidence of our hurried, cheapened, polluted culture.
Speaking of comfort, I bought a scooter about a month ago. It was the most financially imprudent-and most fun-decision I've made in years, maybe ever. After dilly-dallying over what kind to buy (new or vintage? how many CCs? what color?) I chose a new Ves pa. Her name is Vespy, and she's a smooth shade of ivory with a blue seat. The helmet is red, the ride is smooth, and it never fails to make me happy. If you value fun (but not money) and you can handle the mods looking down on your scoot, go buy one. Sim ple joy, and no more bus creepies for a while.
Tonight after work, it was too late to drive down Halsted past Cabrini, so I drove into the Loop and then up LaSalle. (Yes, I know I am a big wuss, but if your wallet had been ganked at 1200N/800W, you wouldn't want to head that way if you didn't h ave to.) Anyway:
The present thunderstorm was beginning to stir, mostly just grumbling and flashing the sky with lightning. It was magnificent to watch it slash the darkness, silhouetting buildings and reminding everyone that we're weak compared to the weather.
I met someone the other night who is perhaps the most beautiful creature I've seen since moving here. Stunningly, simply, subconsciously attractive yet seemingly unaware of genetic giftedness. Despite all that, I didn't lapse into Weirdo Mode. Usually, be autiful people make me uberconscious of my overbite and Noriegan facial tendencies, but this time I actually felt perfectly settled. Chalk one up for self-esteem, chalk one up for A. Grodecki.
Confidential from KW to everybody's favorite Newsweek journalist/K biographer: It can't, won't always be comme ca. Necessary roughness and all that mess. You're that Kenny Rogers song, if you know what I'm saying. AND I THINK YOU DO.
It's amazing how easily old things make me happy. This soul was meant for a different era. My furniture is half assemble-it-yo'self garbage that serves its purpose, but it isn't what I'd like in my nest. The rest is mostly midcentury: a Heywood Wakefield side table, a dull maroon vinyl sofa, a blue Eames swivel chair ($5!), a "cities of the world" folding table, the aforementioned desk. Materialism aside, these pieces are comforting; they erase evidence of our hurried, cheapened, polluted culture.
Speaking of comfort, I bought a scooter about a month ago. It was the most financially imprudent-and most fun-decision I've made in years, maybe ever. After dilly-dallying over what kind to buy (new or vintage? how many CCs? what color?) I chose a new Ves pa. Her name is Vespy, and she's a smooth shade of ivory with a blue seat. The helmet is red, the ride is smooth, and it never fails to make me happy. If you value fun (but not money) and you can handle the mods looking down on your scoot, go buy one. Sim ple joy, and no more bus creepies for a while.
Tonight after work, it was too late to drive down Halsted past Cabrini, so I drove into the Loop and then up LaSalle. (Yes, I know I am a big wuss, but if your wallet had been ganked at 1200N/800W, you wouldn't want to head that way if you didn't h ave to.) Anyway:
The present thunderstorm was beginning to stir, mostly just grumbling and flashing the sky with lightning. It was magnificent to watch it slash the darkness, silhouetting buildings and reminding everyone that we're weak compared to the weather.
I met someone the other night who is perhaps the most beautiful creature I've seen since moving here. Stunningly, simply, subconsciously attractive yet seemingly unaware of genetic giftedness. Despite all that, I didn't lapse into Weirdo Mode. Usually, be autiful people make me uberconscious of my overbite and Noriegan facial tendencies, but this time I actually felt perfectly settled. Chalk one up for self-esteem, chalk one up for A. Grodecki.
Confidential from KW to everybody's favorite Newsweek journalist/K biographer: It can't, won't always be comme ca. Necessary roughness and all that mess. You're that Kenny Rogers song, if you know what I'm saying. AND I THINK YOU DO.
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