If you can dream it, be it.
May. 27th, 2003 04:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
raybearI'm pretty sure ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
freakysparks swiped this from Rocky Horror, but I don't care -- I still give her credit for this piece of self-affirmation because she introduced it into my thought patterns.
In honor of my vacation being over and the jolting depressing shock of being back into reality, I will now construct how my new dream life would look.
I live in a big apartment with nice wood floors and tall windows and rooms painted rich vibrant colors that's conveniently located to a train station but in a semi-residential neighborhood with a great corner store that stocks my beverages and snacks and cigarettes of choice and the clerk makes pleasant conversation without being overbearing. The apartment is one of two or three in a walkup, and there's a shared enclosed backyard and in the morning I stumble out of bed and open the back door so Sophie can run down to take care of business in the time when I start the coffee pot and I don't have to put shoes on. She returns to the kitchen and we both eat breakfast. I watch a few minutes of television then shower and get dressed. On some days I leave the house for appointments and errands, but mostly I go to the home office and sit at the computer and check e-mail and write livejournal and work on essays. My office is half writing, half-music. My turntables and recorders and 8-track and sampler and other gadgets are stored here for occasional tinkering and freelance sound design projects. After a couple hours I take a break for lunch, and do household things like dishes and laundry and sweeping. Afterwards I work on revisions and writing. Then I start dinner.
Sometimes I eat dinner alone, usually with someone else, or maybe even several someones. Some evenings I go out and play with friends,to an event or movie or show or sushi or drinks or a play or performance. Other evenings I stay at home and watch movies or read other novels and magazines. I jot down ideas for things I want to write about. I listen to music while I do some last minute writing before going to bed. I get undressed for fun-playful or hot-sexy or slow-sensual fucking, then go to sleep cuddling.
Once a year I retreat to an artist community for intensive periods of writing, either at a university where I'm getting an MFA or just some hippie commune that's not too crunchy, usually for a couple weeks or even a month. Once a year I spend another month or so traveling in other countries, partly alone, partly with someone else. In between these major vacations, I take long weekends to NYC and San Fran and other new cities to visit friends -- these are also often paired with readings in small bookstores and short interviews with local alternative newsweeklies. I carry along an overnight bag, a laptop with a wirelesss connection, and an iPod that contains nearly every song in my collection.
I'm not rich and I don't own too many possessions. My apartment has more open space than furniture and clutter. I perhaps live alone or in a place so huge that my companion and I are not on top of each other unless we choose to be in that position. When I get writer's block, I take Sophie for a walk and buy ice cream. On nights when I can't sleep I'm unafraid to step out into the dark and know where I can find company at most any hour. I sometimes go downtown during the day to meet friends with office jobs for lunch and afterwards I wander through the museums on the free day.
On the weekends I mostly go out with others for dinner and dancing, though sometimes I entertain in, usually surrounding a huge meal I've cooked and making them cocktails. During the day, when it's sunny, I sometimes like to sit on the back porch and paint or make collages. When it's rainy, I make mixes to send to people.
After several years of this, I pause to re-evaluate and set new goals, which may include more settled down objectives like, family and children and houses and a retirement plan. But maybe not until I've sold my third book.
I want to put this on a fortune cookie.
freakysparks swiped this from Rocky Horror, but I don't care -- I still give her credit for this piece of self-affirmation because she introduced it into my thought patterns.In honor of my vacation being over and the jolting depressing shock of being back into reality, I will now construct how my new dream life would look.
I live in a big apartment with nice wood floors and tall windows and rooms painted rich vibrant colors that's conveniently located to a train station but in a semi-residential neighborhood with a great corner store that stocks my beverages and snacks and cigarettes of choice and the clerk makes pleasant conversation without being overbearing. The apartment is one of two or three in a walkup, and there's a shared enclosed backyard and in the morning I stumble out of bed and open the back door so Sophie can run down to take care of business in the time when I start the coffee pot and I don't have to put shoes on. She returns to the kitchen and we both eat breakfast. I watch a few minutes of television then shower and get dressed. On some days I leave the house for appointments and errands, but mostly I go to the home office and sit at the computer and check e-mail and write livejournal and work on essays. My office is half writing, half-music. My turntables and recorders and 8-track and sampler and other gadgets are stored here for occasional tinkering and freelance sound design projects. After a couple hours I take a break for lunch, and do household things like dishes and laundry and sweeping. Afterwards I work on revisions and writing. Then I start dinner.
Sometimes I eat dinner alone, usually with someone else, or maybe even several someones. Some evenings I go out and play with friends,to an event or movie or show or sushi or drinks or a play or performance. Other evenings I stay at home and watch movies or read other novels and magazines. I jot down ideas for things I want to write about. I listen to music while I do some last minute writing before going to bed. I get undressed for fun-playful or hot-sexy or slow-sensual fucking, then go to sleep cuddling.
Once a year I retreat to an artist community for intensive periods of writing, either at a university where I'm getting an MFA or just some hippie commune that's not too crunchy, usually for a couple weeks or even a month. Once a year I spend another month or so traveling in other countries, partly alone, partly with someone else. In between these major vacations, I take long weekends to NYC and San Fran and other new cities to visit friends -- these are also often paired with readings in small bookstores and short interviews with local alternative newsweeklies. I carry along an overnight bag, a laptop with a wirelesss connection, and an iPod that contains nearly every song in my collection.
I'm not rich and I don't own too many possessions. My apartment has more open space than furniture and clutter. I perhaps live alone or in a place so huge that my companion and I are not on top of each other unless we choose to be in that position. When I get writer's block, I take Sophie for a walk and buy ice cream. On nights when I can't sleep I'm unafraid to step out into the dark and know where I can find company at most any hour. I sometimes go downtown during the day to meet friends with office jobs for lunch and afterwards I wander through the museums on the free day.
On the weekends I mostly go out with others for dinner and dancing, though sometimes I entertain in, usually surrounding a huge meal I've cooked and making them cocktails. During the day, when it's sunny, I sometimes like to sit on the back porch and paint or make collages. When it's rainy, I make mixes to send to people.
After several years of this, I pause to re-evaluate and set new goals, which may include more settled down objectives like, family and children and houses and a retirement plan. But maybe not until I've sold my third book.
I want to put this on a fortune cookie.
