I don't have internet in my apartment (currently reporting from the Atlas Café on the corner off Havemeyer and Grand) and I need to take a few minutes to write about something that isn't about Franz Kafka or Louise Bourgeois or the Rag Houses in New Jersey; although I love them all and I'm really, REALLY looking forward to never having to write another academic paper ever again.
Unless I go for Graduate...
Anyway, welcome to my room.
It's half-finished, as my whole apartment currently is. I moved in last week from a converted living room-turned-bedroom in Manhattan and I'm ecstatic to be done with the previous space. My current room mates have yet to move in, but I'm sure in time they'll be making an appearance on here as we share our adventures for the next year. Oh sure, living behind a fake wall made of carpeting and wooden planks was fun while it lasted, but if I weren't so lazy I would have moved out much sooner.
So yes, Brooklyn's pretty nifty for a Queens girl.
All of my knick-knacks made it safely over here, and it feels like the brick wall in my room suits my usual color scheme which is, uh, I guess reds, whites and neutrals with a fine veneer of junk store dust. I need book shelves, hell, I need shelves and a pole in my closet so I can hang my damn clothes, but that's to come with time. 'Till then, I'm trying to get this graduation thing done.