By the lives that wove the web
I have a desk!
It is a fifty-year-old desk, much scarred with rain stains and tea mugs that aren't mine; my mother believes she was given it for her sixteenth birthday. It has four drawers and a leg that was slightly split once and stabilized with paper tape, now reinforced with aluminum tape. It survived the transit in my brother's car and is now resting in front of the window in my office, which is the room right next to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
derspatchel's office. (One of the staircases to the hidden apartment/half-furnished den/studio/we have no idea comes down through my closet.) On it I have placed my laptop, a large blue mug of apple tea, and the antique mermaid lamp that my father restored and painted for my birthday. The grey-green curtain hung across the newly purchased curtain rod is very translucent and does not cover the full width of the window, but at least it keeps me from having to look straight into the kitchen of the neighbors opposite. I would take a picture if I had a camera. My phone is good only for pixellated impressionistic things like this.
(The mermaids curl to either side of a green glass jar stoppered with cork and a sand dollar, filled with ginger chews. They are resting on red-dashed streaks of salad-bright seaweed, with a silvery-blue breaking wave where the inkwell would have fit. One is copper-haired, the other a sort of fair kelp-gold. Their tails are iridescent blue and peacock-green. They are fair-skinned, with pink nipples and red mouths and dark brows; they wear dotted shell necklaces, one more complicated than the other. My father said his goal was to make them look like classic tattoo mermaids and I think Sailor Jerry would have been proud.)
My poem "Clear" has been accepted by Not One of Us. It is less a ghost poem than a poem about people who have to do with ghosts; it is the first poem I've written in this house. It goes with this picture, so if you want to find out, get a subscription now.
A postcard from![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
yhlee arrived this afternoon.
It is a fifty-year-old desk, much scarred with rain stains and tea mugs that aren't mine; my mother believes she was given it for her sixteenth birthday. It has four drawers and a leg that was slightly split once and stabilized with paper tape, now reinforced with aluminum tape. It survived the transit in my brother's car and is now resting in front of the window in my office, which is the room right next to
derspatchel's office. (One of the staircases to the hidden apartment/half-furnished den/studio/we have no idea comes down through my closet.) On it I have placed my laptop, a large blue mug of apple tea, and the antique mermaid lamp that my father restored and painted for my birthday. The grey-green curtain hung across the newly purchased curtain rod is very translucent and does not cover the full width of the window, but at least it keeps me from having to look straight into the kitchen of the neighbors opposite. I would take a picture if I had a camera. My phone is good only for pixellated impressionistic things like this.(The mermaids curl to either side of a green glass jar stoppered with cork and a sand dollar, filled with ginger chews. They are resting on red-dashed streaks of salad-bright seaweed, with a silvery-blue breaking wave where the inkwell would have fit. One is copper-haired, the other a sort of fair kelp-gold. Their tails are iridescent blue and peacock-green. They are fair-skinned, with pink nipples and red mouths and dark brows; they wear dotted shell necklaces, one more complicated than the other. My father said his goal was to make them look like classic tattoo mermaids and I think Sailor Jerry would have been proud.)
My poem "Clear" has been accepted by Not One of Us. It is less a ghost poem than a poem about people who have to do with ghosts; it is the first poem I've written in this house. It goes with this picture, so if you want to find out, get a subscription now.
A postcard from
yhlee arrived this afternoon.
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This is how I seem to have gotten a lot of my furniture. I have a few items that were bought new: my green basket chair, my mattress (currently awaiting a frame so that we can sleep on it; in the meantime we are making do with
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Thank you. I thought I wouldn't mind if the webs stayed metaphorical.
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NOT PART OF MY DESK.
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Congratulations on the desk as well. Your description of the lamp is lovely.
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Thank you!
I really like the lamp.
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Nine
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It makes me much happier.
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Ghosts in the drawers, songs in the wood.
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Poem, please.
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wait what
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See below—I'll take new pictures if necessary.
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Anyway, yay finally enough space for books! One day, perhaps I will even attain that myself...
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No, I can't see that entry; but only repost if you feel super-motivated.
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It's two floors of a house with a unique theory as to which rooms should go where. We're kind of using one and a half, because of the aforementioned we have no idea, but it's still ours.
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Thank you!
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Congratulations on achieving your spider-free, all functional desk!
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Thank you!
I will see what I can do about photographs.