The Gleam of January
This weekend was dang chilly, and I'm not talking about the delicious winter meal that my mom makes so delectably. I'm talking snow-fallin', winter-blizzardin' chilly. The deceptive kind of cold that doesn't feel that bad at first, because it's not windy, but after a few blocks you realize damn! It IS cold! I awoke to the most beautiful wintry sight outside my window.
This sweet li'l bird must have lost its ticket south.
But by Sunday the snow had melted and everything was just gleaming. That's the thing about New York winters (or, rather, winters outside of Arizona? I don't know): the cold, the cold itself, is bright. It bounces off the treetops and the store signs and the windows and into your eyes. Maybe it's because the snow partially melts, then freezes again with a coat of glistening ice over the snow. But it happens even when it's crystal clear out. At four o'clock, when the sun begins to go down and everything begins to glow with golden iciness, you think the sun may just be lasering the city into submission.
Ooh! Good news! I finally got a desk. I have thus far been using a few storage crates and a board as a makeshift desk, but my mom very generously donated to my "writer's desk fund" at Christmas and so I've been on the hunt. As with most things and people in my life, I am very particular about what I want in a desk. And, as with many things and people in my life, after awhile I'd found many possibilities but none that I felt right about. As with apartments and men and music for editing, I held a firm belief that when the right one came along, I'd know it right away.
And I did.
I went, for the 20th time, to the Housing Works on 17th Street. I've had a lot of good luck there, and they always have a lot of good furniture. (It's in Chelsea, so...) But they didn't have anything I wanted, and after about 2 and a half minutes in the store, I walked out. I wandered over to this flea market a block away, not expecting to get a desk, as their furniture is usually more expensive than I'd prefer... I actually wanted to see if they had any typewriters. I saw one there once that I should have bought upon sight (non-buyer's remorse). I wandered around and my eyes immediately fell upon this desk. I saw no other desk in the collection of dozens of pieces of furniture. There may have been some, but my eyes didn't see them. I only saw this.
Do you notice how remarkably it fits in the space I've created for it? It was well within my budget and they offered cheap, prompt delivery. In perfect condition save for one missing handle. Multiple drawers, not to mention the most gorgeous deep mahogany wood and art deco moulding and handles and... and... wheels on the feet! It is where I will record many lovely words, muse on the nature of life and love, and gaze out the window while the summer breeze brings in echoing notes from the trumpet player on the end of the block. It's where I will store pens and pencils and my notebooks and postcards and letters from loved ones. It was meant to be mine.
love,
*jenna*
This sweet li'l bird must have lost its ticket south.
But by Sunday the snow had melted and everything was just gleaming. That's the thing about New York winters (or, rather, winters outside of Arizona? I don't know): the cold, the cold itself, is bright. It bounces off the treetops and the store signs and the windows and into your eyes. Maybe it's because the snow partially melts, then freezes again with a coat of glistening ice over the snow. But it happens even when it's crystal clear out. At four o'clock, when the sun begins to go down and everything begins to glow with golden iciness, you think the sun may just be lasering the city into submission.
Ooh! Good news! I finally got a desk. I have thus far been using a few storage crates and a board as a makeshift desk, but my mom very generously donated to my "writer's desk fund" at Christmas and so I've been on the hunt. As with most things and people in my life, I am very particular about what I want in a desk. And, as with many things and people in my life, after awhile I'd found many possibilities but none that I felt right about. As with apartments and men and music for editing, I held a firm belief that when the right one came along, I'd know it right away.
And I did.
I went, for the 20th time, to the Housing Works on 17th Street. I've had a lot of good luck there, and they always have a lot of good furniture. (It's in Chelsea, so...) But they didn't have anything I wanted, and after about 2 and a half minutes in the store, I walked out. I wandered over to this flea market a block away, not expecting to get a desk, as their furniture is usually more expensive than I'd prefer... I actually wanted to see if they had any typewriters. I saw one there once that I should have bought upon sight (non-buyer's remorse). I wandered around and my eyes immediately fell upon this desk. I saw no other desk in the collection of dozens of pieces of furniture. There may have been some, but my eyes didn't see them. I only saw this.
Do you notice how remarkably it fits in the space I've created for it? It was well within my budget and they offered cheap, prompt delivery. In perfect condition save for one missing handle. Multiple drawers, not to mention the most gorgeous deep mahogany wood and art deco moulding and handles and... and... wheels on the feet! It is where I will record many lovely words, muse on the nature of life and love, and gaze out the window while the summer breeze brings in echoing notes from the trumpet player on the end of the block. It's where I will store pens and pencils and my notebooks and postcards and letters from loved ones. It was meant to be mine.
love,
*jenna*
posted by jenna at 8:57 PM
2 Comments:
It truly WAS meant to be yours. I can't get over how perfectly it fit! I love it. Very classy, that handle style is so vintage and reminds me of furniture in my grandma's house in New Jersey.
I'd say, "Good job," but I suspect the desk did all the work in pulling you to it. -wink-
My old desk does an arabesque,
in the morning when I first arrive.
It’s a pleasure to see it's waiting there for me
to keep my hopes alive.
Such a comfort to know it’s got no place to go,
it’s always there.
It’s the one thing I’ve got, a huge success,
my Good Old Desk.
harry nilsson
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