A place to live if you please

One of my favorite things that came out of the Seattle Public Library series was the “it’s good to have…series”:

“It’s good to have living room.”
“It’s good to have a place to write.”

Suddenly those phrases bear new meaning.

Yesterday my “3-weeks left” timeline hit me. I found myself photographing my apartment into the early hours of the morning: capturing, remembering. After being a depressive energy-vampire for almost an entire year, I’ve been doing my best to not only clean up my own personal living space, but that of the building around me.

I’ve been trying to perk up the place. i.e. “Hey everybody. Sorry I was an ass for a year. Here’s some cool shit.”

Flexcar.
Bike Storage.
A groovy circular fire pit/garden area.

And I feel like all of that is slipping away – dissolving before my very eyes.

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I’ve been feeling a pretty immense pull towards the desert. Odd for me, the heavy water sign who dehydrates beyond belief in the desert. But then again, I will be bouncing btw. Las Vegas & LA for a good chunk of time.

A friend has a friend who lives two hours outside of LA – the desert oasis. Joshua tree, Jacuzzi under the stars – the full package. I’ve been checking out the calendar & trying to figure out a hiatus before this pitching frenzy ensues.

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Due to the massive changes that’ve recently occurred, yesterday left me questioning if I’d be able to remain at Bel Baines whilst intermittently hopping back into Seattle.

And I found myself wishing that I had somewhere else to go. For a minute, when I thought West Seattle Tattoo Artist girl was still here, I thought about crashing with her. Last I heard, she was looking at houses.

Now, of course, last I heard, she’s no longer in WA state.

Damn.

Then it came in yesterday:

The friend of the friend in the desert is looking for a tenant. Here’s a snippet from the email:

“Ok, here is an interesting prospect I will throw out there, not REALLY knowing what is going with you and what you want/need at the moment, my friend Jeanne, in the desert, is looking for a tenant (the one she had lasted only a few days -- I'll tell you that story) . . . only 2 hours from LA, quiet place to work. The energy can be really powerful, overwhelming even, there. Anyway . . . if you find you need to be in the area more but don't want to be in LA . . .”

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So. What to do? I’ve been trying to locate the answer via analysis and that isn’t getting me anywhere but head spun.

Where will I be less distracted and more able to focus on what I need to be concentrating on?

Here?
By myself, alone in the desert under the stars?

I’ve got a couple of incomplete paintings that’ve been calling and I’m doing a King Street Station & Metro “transportation” shoot today.

Perhaps the answers will surface thru lines and colors.

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On the side:

I’ve had my cell phones under the maintenance/insurance plans for, well, forever – up until recently. I upgraded and thought, “Why exactly do I pay $5/month on insurance that I’ve never once had to use?” So I dropped it.

Addendum to on the side:

I fucking hate how there’s regulation on insurance and how it relates to us having to insure the material things that we own but not our own health.

This was one of the main reasons why I sold our car. It drove me insane to be paying auto insurance when I couldn’t afford to go to the doctor.

Anyway.

Cut to: yesterday.

Now with the sans insurance on the newish phone – I dropped it; not once but twice.

And it shattered my display screen. (The image behind the display screen is a painting I did of Adam and I.)

(Thanks for the jab.)