The Castro: new house
After a long house search, a group of friends and I found a house that is so nice that roughly every day I am confused by how we got such a nice house. I don’t think I can describe well, or understand, how nice it is, because I lack the vocabulary or conceptual repertoire. But where other houses are vaguely old and dark and dirty, or vaguely new and blank and modern—and maybe you see some nice bay window and make that the headline image of what you’ve got—this is wide and warm and well-crafted and pleasing, almost everywhere.
We have lived there for nearly a month, and I continue to feel like I’m sort of camping. Like maybe this is the far end of a journey, and I am yet to return home. And the days bleed into one another, like they have before for me at Burning Man or on a hotel holiday. I don’t know which day is which, or how many have passed. I also kind of feel like the world that I knew is somewhere analogous to Narnia, which isn’t great for remembering to keep up with my friends. I figure these things might come from rarely going far from my house, or from not having a real bed. I currently work and sleep and eat and think in some combination of the living space and my cluttered yet empty bedroom, which are next to each other and hardly separated.
Today I get a mattress though, and I am trying working at the office of a friend’s company. So, we’ll see.