Home sweet home and a house concert to boot!
I've been waiting for a home for awhile. I don't just mean waiting to GET home from the last tour, the latest stint on the road. For the last year, I really haven't had a home to return to. I've been waiting for my new home to be livable--it's an old warehouse that's been blessed with new life and renovation. New rooms built. Old bricks discovered. Old floors refinished. New walls erected. Old windows salvaged. And while this building purges itself of old ghosts and subjects itself to the relentless inspection of city planners, developers, contractors, and the like, I've been homeless.
So I’ve been itching to rediscover that space that reflects one’s values, opinions, identities, routines, curiosities, loves, passions. I want a floor that is scuffed and marked with the heels of all my visitors. A kitchen countertop marked from use, the edges of knives, and the war wounds of dinner parties. I want a space that is alive with stories and stains, parties and spills, musings and markings.
But my home (my space) is shared. My passions, practices, book collection, and preferable shelf height overlaps, intersects, and conflicts with the loves, routines, and color choices of a roommate, a friend, a lover, a soulmate. It’s a wild fusion indeed—this space and all its collections and unpredictable corners. I’ve been waiting for a long time to rediscover it.
Inevitably, the space will be filled with music. So we planned the inaugural house concert—it’s a strange shift being the host and not the performer. Our friends Dave Lang and Geoff Berner are going to break in the new space. As things look now, that could very well be the first night we spend there—a true housewarming. I’ll keep you posted with scandalous party pictures and the like. . .
So I’ve been itching to rediscover that space that reflects one’s values, opinions, identities, routines, curiosities, loves, passions. I want a floor that is scuffed and marked with the heels of all my visitors. A kitchen countertop marked from use, the edges of knives, and the war wounds of dinner parties. I want a space that is alive with stories and stains, parties and spills, musings and markings.
But my home (my space) is shared. My passions, practices, book collection, and preferable shelf height overlaps, intersects, and conflicts with the loves, routines, and color choices of a roommate, a friend, a lover, a soulmate. It’s a wild fusion indeed—this space and all its collections and unpredictable corners. I’ve been waiting for a long time to rediscover it.
Inevitably, the space will be filled with music. So we planned the inaugural house concert—it’s a strange shift being the host and not the performer. Our friends Dave Lang and Geoff Berner are going to break in the new space. As things look now, that could very well be the first night we spend there—a true housewarming. I’ll keep you posted with scandalous party pictures and the like. . .
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