02 November 2007

"She had a cat and she played the guitar. On days when the sun was strong she would wash her hair, and together with the cat, a red tiger-striped tom, sit out on the fire escape thumbing a guitar while her hair dried. Whenever I heard the music I would go stand quietly by my window. She played very well, and sometimes sang too. Sang in the hoarse, breaking tunes of a boy's adolescent voice."
-Truman Capote, Breakfast at Tiffany's
The Boston Flat was that hypothetical solution to restless cafeteria days and boring Friday evenings. We would have plants in the windows and lots of bookshelves. We would be busy with our brownstone lives, walking to concerts and writing brilliant things all night.

Who knows where we would work, but that would be irrelevant, because we'd earn just enough to have a fire escape to sit on and a big red cat named Taj Mahal and we'd know how to play the guitar.


AES said...

oh yes, yes. i've been reading Bird by Bird and dreaming more and more of living off my writing. Not stupid freelance work, but real writing that will make me happy to write.

Hope Elizabeth said...

so fun :) ... love the ideal. LOVE it.

.rx. said...

sometimes i feel like that too. like i could just have a place like that. and everything would be fine and happy. then i realize that i have no idea how i'll someday pay for food.