Transitions

My brother's wheelchair sits in the middle of his, my, our bedroom. The bedroom has metamorphosed in the past few months, and few days. The original sublet, while I was gone to Thailand, was unable to fulfill the sublet term and so my twin brother, homeless at the time, came to reside in my place. The wheelchair is comfortable and amusing to spin around in the small room. The room has become more cluttered with the combination of his stuff and my boxes. There is a haphazard composition to the room that attests to James' organization habits. These habits have no doubt been induced by long periods of travel, never settling into a place. Lacking the sense of permanence everything is semi-packed, ready to be thrown into the nearest vehicle to escape to the nearest rock, or opportunity.

The walls are undecorated save a few copies of old stencils I've done, and a black and white picture. The picture, which I obtained while working at the Delmar Theatre in Santa Cruz, is of two women. The two women are elegantly dressed, perhaps for a Victorian ball, a debutante ball, or a high society dinner. Their dresses ruffle with satin. The first woman wears a gray dress that in real life might be an emerald green. The first woman's head leans back, her blonde curled hair in the grip of the woman behind her. Her mouth is agape in frustration and pain. The second woman, whose face is much darker, resembling a young Elizabeth Taylor, grips the blonde's arm and hair. Her mouth is clinched tight yet she bares her teeth in a moment of sadism. The dark haired woman wears a dress of lighter color, perhaps without the black and white to neutralize the hue it would be creme. I obtained the book while making photocopies of fliers for the Del Mar. I went into the back office and saw a book about sadism in film. Flipping through the book the picture caught my eye and I copied it. Four years later it would appear on my wall in Berkeley, contrasting with the starkness of the walls, making a comment on the clutter of the room.

The house itself resembles in some ways, the interior of my room. The previous sublet and one of the current sublets, along with a visiting friend, have a variety of boxes, suitcases, and odds and ends in various enclaves. The enclaves have the feel of being only partially organized. They have been shifted around as the temporary tenants have felt the need to pull some odd item from one of the boxes. The boxes are unevenly arranged denoting a lack of planning and of permanence.