December 20, 2014
“I am going to make everything around me beautiful - that will be my life.” I don’t have any money, but over the years, avoiding situations where I need to pay some cash, I instead, focused on building an inner life of beauty - and as everyone knows, the first step to inner-beauty is to make sure your home is beautiful. At one time I had money, and I was fortunate enough to hire Else De Wolfe to design my home, here in Silverlake. All my punk rock friends thought I was crazy, but I didn’t care what they said. When you get down to it, I don’t care what anyone says. Fuck them.
What I had to do, was live in a hotel for a year - and since I had to save all my money for the decorator and the furniture she picked out for me, I stayed at the cheapest hotel I can find. I got a hotel on Western, and it should have been called “Fucked-Ville.” On the left-side of the hotel room, there was consistent banging on the wall thru some girl getting nailed by a guy or something, and the other side was pounding like a machine fucking a girl. The ceiling was cracking’ due to the pounding up there as well. Day and night, and I couldn’t think how much sperm is being produced on almost a factory level of production. I never saw these people, but I just have to presume that it is all not the same characters.
“I was not ugly. I might never be anything for women to lose their heads about, but I need never again be ugly. This knowledge was like a song within me. Suddenly it all came together. If you were healthy, fit, and well-dressed, you could be attractive.” On the other hand, as one can clearly see, I’m not healthy, or fit, but I’m well-dressed. So there is hope, as there is hope that you yell down the old water well for your missing kitty, and hearing a “meow” come back. Nevertheless, I came back after a year, to a beautiful home. It was mine, but alas, I couldn’t afford it. Still, the few months that I had, I enjoyed it immensely.
“Be pretty if you can, be witty if you must, but be gracious if it kills you.” The first thing I noticed when I moved back to my newly decorated home, was my writing changed. The initial material was brutish, but now I am finding my work becoming more refine. It is if the furniture in the room were writing and not me. Over a short period of time, I realized that I have become someone else, and surely a better person. But then it became obvious to me that it wasn’t me that changed, but me being here at home. I have been redefined by the interior designs, and for instance at one time, I would normally throw my clothing to the floor before taking a bath or heading towards the bed. Now, I carefully take off my clothing in a formal manner where I start from top to the bottom. The last thing I take off is the socks. Once everything is off, I gently fold all my clothing and place it in a bag to be picked-up and cleaned. The truth is I don’t have enough money to take my clothing to the cleaners. So I basically depend on buying new clothing and I can do so- as long as the credit card is good.
Over months of just doing nothing except working on my book, I realize that I don’t really belong here. All of this is not mine. Nor does it convey a world that I really believe in. Yet, I’m defined by space, and this space is pretty much my new world. Yet, one thing I do know, is to “never complain, never explain.” I now can only afford soup, but as you know ‘you can’t build a meal on a lake. ”
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