journal creature: One Room Theory

There is a room I imagine with Stargazer Lilies on a table. With a love seat, a futon, perhaps a bean bag, plenty of pillows, a rug---heck, a porch swing, I don't care---just as long as they are comfortable.

There might be cathedral ceilings and sprung wood floors. If this is my fantasy, then by all means, why not have the skylight and trap door while we're at it. Why not have potted ivy hanging in every corner.

It does not matter if this room is in a hotel in Anaheim, a warehouse in San Francisco, or a castle in Ireland. It does not matter if it is only a grassy clearing in the middle of the woods. It does not matter about the room in fact at all.

You see, I have traveled all over this country and lived in many cities. I have witnessed bizarre events and have instigated mayhem. I have performed with the famous and sipped chamomile with the nameless. I have met many, many people and have learned to recognize quickly the extraordinary minds, the shining talents, the golden hearts of a rare, but plentiful few.

The musician, the photographer, the percussionist, the rock-climber, the mother, the fighter, the student and the gypsy. The romantic, the dreamer, the dancer, the story-teller, the philosopher, the ritualist, the seeker and the pacifist...The Artist.

These are the people whom I keep in my life. These are the people I go to great lengths to stay in communication with. These are the people I must someday assemble, for a purpose grander than even I can imagine, in One Room with pastel pink wall paper and a broken rocking chair, perhaps. It doesn't much matter.

All I know is that when the combination is right, I will be able to die right there on the spot, my purpose fulfilled. I will have brought them together and set something powerful into motion.

Until then I will be loyal with friendship and appreciation. Until then I can hope only that these brilliant souls find a reason to remain in my life long enough to someday accept the invitation to One Room, with a motionless grandfather clock and one of Grandma's afghans.

Which of course does not matter. Until then.

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	One Room Theory July 31, 2003 There is a room I imagine with Stargazer Lilies on a table. With a love seat, a futon, perhaps a bean bag, plenty of pillows, a rug---heck, a porch swing, I don't care---just as long as they are comfortable. There might be cathedral ceilings and sprung wood floors. If this is my fantasy, then by all means, why not have the skylight and trap door while we're at it. Why not have potted ivy hanging in every corner. It does not matter if this room is in a hotel in Anaheim, a warehouse in San Francisco, or a castle in Ireland. It does not matter if it is only a grassy clearing in the middle of the woods. It does not matter about the room in fact at all. You see, I have traveled all over this country and lived in many cities. I have witnessed bizarre events and have instigated mayhem. I have performed with the famous and sipped chamomile with the nameless. I have met many, many people and have learned to recognize quickly the extraordinary minds, the shining talents, the golden hearts of a rare, but plentiful few. The musician, the photographer, the percussionist, the rock-climber, the mother, the fighter, the student and the gypsy. The romantic, the dreamer, the dancer, the story-teller, the philosopher, the ritualist, the seeker and the pacifist...The Artist. These are the people whom I keep in my life. These are the people I go to great lengths to stay in communication with. These are the people I must someday assemble, for a purpose grander than even I can imagine, in One Room with pastel pink wall paper and a broken rocking chair, perhaps. It doesn't much matter. All I know is that when the combination is right, I will be able to die right there on the spot, my purpose fulfilled. I will have brought them together and set something powerful into motion. Until then I will be loyal with friendship and appreciation. Until then I can hope only that these brilliant souls find a reason to remain in my life long enough to someday accept the invitation to One Room, with a motionless grandfather clock and one of Grandma's afghans. Which of course does not matter. Until then. 0 comments Links to this post 0 Comments: Post a Comment Links to this post: <$BlogBacklinkTitle$> <$BlogBacklinkSnippet$> posted by <$BlogBacklinkAuthor$> @ <$BlogBacklinkDateTime$> Create a Link