Saturday, December 08, 2007

west village


One of the things I've been advised.

Restart.

One of the things I've absorbed recently - for I believe I've probably been given excellent advice throughout my life but it seems I'm hearing it, and it's become precious to me, only recently,

is to end the day with some thanks.

"Even if you can only give thanks for the holding-up support of the bed beneath you, still - it's the act of thanking," Ashley said, "that redirects, re-tallies the universe's energies."

Perhaps (I imagine), in some giant heavenly counting chamber, the gods/angels/bean counters look up for a moment, smile, and say: "well then - there's a little blip of a back-at-you we're getting from a walk-up on Horatio Street - we hadn't heard that voice in ages."

(angel-ages)

It was a year of challenges, after a year before it of loss, but I have a bed (my white sheets), 2 windows that look south and down on a tended courtyard, a small(progressive) school's library of reading left in place by the writer (Tom Donaghy - currently on strike in LA) I rent from, 3 plants that apparently receive sufficient light to stick it out, a fireplace that's "working" insofar as it will accept a duraflame log infrequently, a bathtub, a stove and 4 burners, a desk, bits of my art (carried in in bits) and so a home - maybe 300 sq. ft. bathroom included - in New York's most homey west village.

baby-size kitchen, and still the fridge is mostly empty, mostly fage yoghurts.

In the evenings I've been on little runs - down to Canal Street via labyrinthine lanes (past Magnolia's line, Mark Jacob's expanding Marc Jacobs empire, the smokers huddled outside Spotted Pig, the limos spanning the block of Waverly Inn). When I arrive back to my block, my home, I get to take out my keys and climb my tenement's listing steps and disassemble myself neatly so my space won't be overwhelmed by discarded jackets and socks.

not so tidy, and the rug in the mirror needs to be dragged to the garbage,
but the chair was a cast-off left in the hall


It's not grand but a bed of one's own in New York City is always, will always be for me, something to give thanks for.

C - at home

2 comments:

Flambo said...

Such a small world...you are the good friend of my sister-in-law (Gabriella), and you are currently renting from the brother of one of my closest, dearest friends (Michael Donaghy).

Strange, but I guess fitting since I've always been so drawn to your blog.

I hope things are well. It's good to read you again.

Marie-Helene Carleton said...

i am so very happy to read one of my favorite bloggers again. and not just the presence on the screen, but to hear of the interior life, and journey's therein, with all of its exterior manifestations.
the stair-climbing joy surge makes me joyful, and i am excited and proud of your thankful bed - including the new place of the bed.
and by the way, from the pictures, you have managed to make the studio-sized sublet reflect your aesthetics and vision - it looks lovely and amazing.
keep a-blogging. your loyal readers love to be part of the journey.