OMG Moon tastic

July 23, 2008

 

 

Life is in a shambles at the moment. In Chicago anyway. It’s like someone gave the Green Lantern (let’s not forget it’s also my apartment) an enema. All worldly possessions belonging to me are presently stacked in a heap in the middle of the gallery. Pillows, flat files, bags of laundry, boxes of books, tools, artwork, spackle, paint: a whole lot of nonsense.

 

There is a film of gypsum dust all over everything—a fine dry snow fell from the ceiling in the night.

            This morning I was up at eight sanding the walls. After thirty minutes the air swelled, a cloud. The light everywhere, from the sun where it came through the windows to the clamp lights overhead, was dissolute and wan with all the dust. By midmorning I was caked in white—an alabaster golem.

One thing I’ve always liked about gypsum is the way it makes your hair thick and dry and caked. I’ve got that going for me these days. 

 

It’s been a couple of weeks of some serious clean up. Throwing stuff out, taking stock, tearing down walls, and putting other ones up. The regularly returning hero, Canada Dan, has single handedly (for the most part), done the big stuff—put up a whole new wall running along the tail end of the gallery. He brought the walls all the way up, and it lends a new hominess to the living quarters. While also, I believe, adding to the height of the ceilings.

 

Seriously, this is serious.

It’s all part of our plans for fanciness. We’re going to set up a reading room, we’re putting a new closet in and well…other things too, but you’ll have to wait to see what that’s all about.

            Look out fall, here we come.

 

It’s hot up here. It gets a little dank. Like deer trails, the paths we walk most often are drawn out in the dust on the floor. The places around which we work hardest are speckled with puddles of sweat, reminding me of a game Dan once told me about where you lay out a film of flour on a flat surface, then dip your fingers in water and sprinkle the water in drops across the flour. It’s called “Moon” or some such thing.

At present we are living on the moon. Only like I said it’s pretty hot, there is a lot of sun and not too many stars. We’ve been drinking coca-cola like there’s no tomorrow, and every day around four o’clock in the afternoon, I bring out various collections of Things I Was Never Before Able To Part With,  and see the same couple in a minivan; a man and a woman. I suspect they are married. The last two days they’ve caught us right as we’re throwing stuff out—Dan was ditching some old metal studs, part of an old wall, and a broken vacuum cleaner. He started putting the stuff on top of the dumpster, and then the fellow driving braked, as his lady friend ran around to the other side of the car to pick up what we were dropping off. 

I think we’re friends.

 

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