My room is small.
I think there is a bit of a conditioned prejudice against confined, economic living such as this with most anybody who is my age; or maybe it’s just an American thing?
I have enjoyed the comforts of living in places that had more space than I needed or could ever use. Oppositely, I grew up sharing a room with my brother in the squalor of Oklahoma trailer parks for most of those first 18 or 19 years. So I have occupied both ends of the spectrum.
Despite the difficulties, there are days like today: nothing seems more gratifying than this mattress on the floor, this tiny Crosley portable turntable, this guitar, this glass of wine, and some time to myself.
It’s the closest place I can get to as far as spirituality goes…
By the way, that’s Karen Dalton on the turntable…which don’t hurt none…
