After-dinner musings: possible city dweller

My room has a little balcony or alcove -- not sure what to call it, as its railing is flush with the face of the building: does it have to hang over to be a balcony? Anyhow, has a single, white-painted iron chair with a red-painted cement floor; about 5.5ft x 5.5ft (about 1.7m x 1.7m; vaguely measured it).

Sat out there for a few minutes last night, and also this morning, and also just a few minutes ago. My room looks out onto a parking lot; directly below is a sidewalk, then a narrow strip of some plants and two trees, then the parking lot with the occasional tree planted here and there: the tree closest to my ‘’balcony’’ is centered between the two trees closest to my balcony, which are planted in the narrow ‘’green strip.’’ I’m on the first floor, but raised up slightly, so I look out directly at the leafy zone of the trees.

I could imagine myself in Paris, or some urban place, downtown-ish -- one of those New York neighborhoods, maybe. Sipping my morning (or afternoon) cup of tea, feeling the cool air on my face, watching the seasons change by the change of the leaves and the feeling of the air. Maybe after a few years of living here, put a few potted plants out on the balcony; maybe a window box. Maybe being a writer -- a playwright? -- instead of a musician (my gear takes up too much room! And, too noisy.) and living in this room as a studio apartment: get a little electric burner or two and put it on the counter top above the mini-‘fridge. Trade one of the twin beds for a sofa, and get a coffee table (or a wooden crate, or flat-topped steamer chest). Leading a solitary, slightly lonely existence in my tiny New York studio apartment.

Oh yeah: And a bookcase or two over in the corner by the sofa. Maybe have one or two shelves full of LPs -- because that feels like more of a ‘’playwright’’ thing to have than CDs.

Too tiny to take up woodworking -- unless it was some smaller version, like carving wooden figurines.

Maybe the nice fellow -- and eventually, the nice middle-aged fellow, and eventually nice older fellow -- who stops by the newsstand every morning to pick up his newspaper and see if either of his two magazines are in. And maybe stops by the local coffee shop every Thursday night for live jazz night (which in reality I’m not that in to -- but it fits nicely with the studio apartment, the occupation -- and the balcony).

Heh! Fun little daydream. Tragically romantic. (Or, ''romantically tragic''?)

However, I like my life. A good riff, though: ought to turn it into a song; maybe a film short. Come back here to University House (the place I’m staying), bring in a few props, shoot on location.


BTW, took another look at the furniture: turns out the cabinet that houses the mini-‘fridge, the dresser, the nightstand, the wardrobe and the desk all have the same handles -- so, possibly all from the 1960s(?). Must be the differing angles that threw me off. The little stand in the bathroom, though, is either homemade or from the 1930s-1950s, though.


--GG