Friday, July 04, 2008

Small Spaces

I know, the blogging has slowed waaaay down. Fuck off; I'm busy. I'm trying to simultaneously find a house to buy with all the attendant hassles that brings - talk to bankers! fill out lots of forms! worry about money! drive around and go inside many, many houses, often with unbelievably hideous wallpaper! discover that not only are there no houses in the this neighborhood I love in my price range but houses I can't even afford are horrible holes! - I'm also helping the QOB and my mother navigate through the wilds of what is so charmingly called eldercare - medicare doesn't cover everything! must find more health insurance plans! they are confusing as fuck! so is the medicare prescription drug stuff! there are many doctor's appointments to be scheduled and then gone to! the QOB is persistent as hell in her desire to return to the big bad city! driving the QOB around Asheville is entertaining if a bit nervewracking! at least she's wearing some of her teeth! argh! - and, of course, I'm still holding down a job and an overly active social life (with no dating, never dating again, at least that's out of the way, thank the goddess) and, let's not forget, worrying about my errant son, who I haven't heard from in over a week but who is "safe" with his father in West by god Virginia. I think.

However, I might have found a house that I like and, hold your breath, can afford. I'm just trying to figure out if I can actually fit myself, young M, two 50 pound dogs, giant accumulations of stuff and a severe gardening habit into about 850 square feet of space with an additional maybe 850 square feet of yard or if this is a crazy pipe dream and I should keep looking for another, bigger house with more yard despite the evidence of my own eyes that bigger houses cost more, even when they're repulsively ugly and need tons of work. I have seen, so far, a nice house on a way too busy street with a yard that looked like it came straight outta Compton - pit bull pens, concrete, weeds and, yes, rats - that was $30,000 out of my price range anyway; a brand new modular unit cheek by jowl with a bunch of other horrific modular units tucked scenically right by the freeway although a prominent sign in the kitchen promises that when the next 15 modular units go up where the apple trees are now, the traffic noise will go down, oh joy; a house with peeling paneling, no stove, an antique furnace and a giant basement that would be perfect for political prisoners and which has, somewhat unsettlingly, children's handprints etched in red on the floor of one of its locked, concrete block cells rooms. I can't afford that house and its small ghosts, although the yard kicks ass and, once a giant, multi level deck was built, it could be sweet. I have also seen one of the freakiest houses ever, a house which looks just ugly and early 70s normal from the street but then reveals many crazed outbuildings and horrific wallpaper and an entire, hidden, wacked out bachelor pad basement apartment with no heat but many mirrors and giant 70s speakers embedded right into the wall and a concrete floor painted bright blue. I can't afford that house either, which may be for the best, since young M would take one look, settle himself into the apartment, grow sideburns, take up striped bell bottoms, cocaine, disco and gold chains and never leave again. You should never risk having your kids possessed by the spirit of the 70s.

The house I like is on a quiet street in my favorite neighborhood. I could walk to Z & H & S & K & J's house, as well as BJs and the Gas Up and Harvest Records. The house was built in the 20s, my favorite decade for house construction. It is tiny and immaculate and adorable and has practically no yard around it at all and ceilings that are slightly less than 7 feet high so it is sort of a house for leprechauns. I can afford it - I mean, I think I can really afford it and my mortgage payments would be seriously lower than my rent has been. I'm going back to look at it again on Monday and I'm wondering if young M and I can turn into leprechauns. I'm thinking about hiring A to build a roof deck so I could still have parties. I'm thinking about how cheap it would be to heat. And I'm nervous as hell.

In other news, Z & S & J & D & C and I worked on The Movie last night. C & Z & S have been making a Movie - an awesome, funny movie - for a while and now we're all involved. It was a total blast, even when the scene called for J & D to drive down in front of C's business and a train decided to come through and we all had to laugh and wait. I did some camerawork and then played, first, a spacy old girlfriend of C's who has just moved back to Asheville from Sedona (I made her up. She was remarkably easy to create. This worries me a bit.) and then, the rich, bitchy, crazy head of the Rainbow Earth People's Collective Vegan Restaurant and Consciousness Raising Food Emporium. That was hilarious and involved all of us shouting madly at one another. Everything was great until I saw myself on film and realized that, holy shit, I really have gone to hell - I look like a walrus with dyed hair. Jesus. Diet and exercise and more diet and more exercise and possibly a real haircut are on the agenda for the rest of the summer.

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