Living Room

I am currently at the undocumented resource center. There is a whiteboard that has a bunch of inane fun funny stuff on it. It looks like a storage closet. Computers to the left. There are things all over. It reminds me of home. 

My living room is full of stuff as well. Full of junk and meaning. Everything behind the item as a long and drawn out story. The word clutter is something that gets a bad connotation. The clutter in my living room is spaced out, meaning that there is a walkable path in the middle. I love it. I love everything about my living room. My parents also love my living room.

There is a certain energy for the bike in the corner next to the piano. The bike has never been used and mainly serves as a wall between the backyard. The backyard is also full of clutter. Except it’s less spaced out and prettyly organized. My Dad always says clutter is not a mess, only if you let it be. Hoarders are story tellers, they just need to make the clutter more categorized. There is an art to make trash editable. That is the storyteller way. The storytelling animal. The bike was bought for me by my Dad. My Dad asked for my independence. Sometimes it’s the intent that matters. I’ll most likely sell it. I’ll certainly never forget it. 

The piano is next to the bike. Another item never used with frequency. This time with for my brother. My brother is a musician. He doesn’t know it. Though he plays nothing sort than a professional, he never uses the concert high school piano from the 1970s that are still used today. I love the piano. I also love my brother. Both together are the idea that matters.

The table of wood and glass are nowhere near the bike and piano. Though it is at the center, it really ties the room together. For what I know, the table has been there forever. Predates most of the items there. The only surviving artifact from the many renovations the room went through. If it could talk it would say two things. How am I alive? Thank you for keeping me. Clean. 

What a room. A good place to stay. So good, in fact, that many guests stayed over for a night or two. Humberto, Lou, Marco all enjoyed their visit. They added to the vibrant world of the living room. They did not notice the things and their stories. I certainly did. I made them up myself.