well, a curse on me for sitting inside when the sun is finally out but blessed sweet relief and glory the man is out of the house fishing and the house is mine, mine, mine, mine, mine and I love it here when its quiet. I mean I FUCKING LOVE it. Dear Jesus Christ Allah and Buddha on a stick, I'm so glad sometimes for quiet. And space.
And if my home is a holy wreck and slightly untidy (very undecorated) -- it is at least beautiful for itself, it's structure. Form/function in this home is truly inspired. It really is a gem. But for some much needed updating. How to describe? Except this - I call it the secret annex and it really is almost like a tree top with lots of turns and corners. My side of the building faces a large courtyard building so I'm on the "city side" of the building - and can peer down the galley way between the two structures and hear the heart of each home pulsating from porch doors. Kitchen cabinets slammed, a baby crying, footsteps of tired people coming upstairs from work, the clatter of someone running for the metra station, the sound of the train pulling in at Lunt. Lunt! Snort. [asides...oh, the first blue joke I heard in Chicago, "there are three streets that all rhyme with...." ]
All the little noises that people make. Even then, there must have been a blare of radios instead of TVs. Whatever the case, this side of the building is definitely more European. Built in a time when you had little nucleus of community that was in your business by proximity. On this side of the building there is more intimacy with others. All the kitchens/back half of the homes face in together. There is a delicate balance between walls. Not as close and stupid as the ugly little homes of Jeff Park, but definitely in an arena when you know how your neighbors sound.
And because my side faces East, the morning glory of daylight makes this apartment glow. It's a precious slip of time before the sun goes overhead but as it crests the building next door -- lord help me, it is so lovely I could cry. The gold of the morning in the dining room is something beyond a cloud. And all down the hall - north or south, seas of green from the trees. This annex, this little haven in the city is far grander than my humble belongings can ever glorify. My home is a deco masterpiece and I am grateful, always, for a tiny parcel of morning when there is no other sound save my clicking on the keyboard. The quiet hum of my thoughts and surroundings. Oh, the sounds you can hear in the city when most everyone else is still slumbering. These mornings are more delicious than sex. Not quite but just as tasty. The sounds that come gently wafting are so delicious when everyone else next door is silent but for the hum of a fan, an air conditioner, the morning doves that perch on the gutters next door and coo sweetly.
Dear fucking god in heaven and all the saints above: thank you, thank you, thank you - for a ray of sunlight after so many damn days of clouds. Thank you, Ganesha, o'remover of obstacles, for delivering a fishing partner unto Big D. And bless all sentient beings to know this peace within. So yes, I should be out, but I'll make another cup of coffee and enjoy this tender little bliss all to myself.
The cardinals are up and singing and I am so blessed. A farmers market may be on the horizon. Some fresh herbs, some new potatoes. A big tomato. A love story. I will deliver these soon, I swear.