le lit est avec moi

this was my first night in my brand-new bed. and it was lovely. the mattress itself isn't so much comfortable that say, firm... but it's a bed nonetheless and it's way more comfortable than trying to fit my lanky ass on a couch that is five inches longer than my torso. or, sleeping on a bed of coats on the floor, which i should compare to sleeping on a bed of coats on the floor.

either way, you're sleeping on a bed of coats on the floor, and it will never even come close to say, a sleeping bag, or even just a simple yoga mat. you may as well just sleep on the floor. cause perpetually, that's what you are doing anyway.

so i'm laying here, on my firm (but not coats) mattress, relishing the fact that my room, for the first time in new york city, actually resembles a room. not a place where we can store our empty boxes and loose books; not a large litterbox of clothes that my cats can piss on; not a cold resemblance of a mistake i made that lost a good friend...

it's a room, and it's mine, and i finally feel like i have somewhat of a home.

home is a funny thing. i've lived here, in this apartment in brooklyn, for eight months now. and this is the first time in almost a year that i can step back and get a good look at the quilt that is slowly starting to come together to keep me warm. it's not there all the way, and my feet still kind of hang out the bottom, but it's getting there, and by winter that quilt will hopefully cover the entire length of my body and still have room for one more.

the two years of my life have been me moving around, in atlanta, on tour, in boston, and now here; and with all the disarray it feels good to have something i can call my own. not a place that i moved into cause i had no other place to go. all of this is mine, and a sanctuary that i don't have to share if i don't want to.

yeah, there's some kinks to work out. i'm painting a mural to go over my bed, moving the artwork from there into the kitchen, and getting frames for the creepy dance posters my brother got me for christmas a couple years back. i still need a dresser that won't look like one out of a salvador dali painting and i probably would like to invest in a bookshelf and some paint for the walls.

but no matter how you dress it, it's still mine, and i don't feel as lost as i have during the last couple months.

way to go, me.

k.