My interest in space and place is accompanied by guilt about the materialism of it all. Do beautiful places indicate that you get one without the other? I don't know what to say about that, but I have always wanted to have a home of my own. Not just any home, but a place where people feel creative, feel like they can take off their shoes, or have some Greek yogurt.
Anyway, here are some photos of a place the old man and I stayed when we read for Rhapsodomancy and Vroman's in Los Angeles earlier this summer. The house is located in West Hollywood and everything about it is secret. You have to drive up walled and winding roads to get there, but once you're inside, it's all world.
Don't you see yourself knitting in this nook just beyond the kitchen (above)? It was so difficult to get the L.A. day started because I didn't want to leave the nook. Isn't that so nice? Being in a place you don't want to leave?
This house is so incredibly well designed. Every space within this place is used to its utmost. Sometimes I daydream that I live there and my friends come over to listen to Bloodstone and hang out on the stairwell. I like a good stairwell stoop, even if it's inside. Also, I'm not sure if you can tell, but that drum kit is orange. (Moon eyes).
The cacti are located in two separate places. I wanted you to see the over-exposed one--sorry--on the left because just above it is an outdoor kitchen area. Man, I'd be cookin' for y'all every night in an outdoor kitchen. Concerning the cactus on the right: do you know what that path leads to? You guessed it--more outdoor space. If you look closely at the photo of the lagoonish pool, you can see a little plane flying by, reflected in the water.