scribbles @ griffonage studios

There's a place where I can go and...
Savoring the comfort of my own workspace when the day gets a little too gnarly, too edgy, too angry, too aggressive, and yes, a tad too unpredictable.
Just now…

There’s a place where I can go
And tell my secrets to
In my room, in my room
(In my room)

In this world I lock out all
my worries and my fears
In my room, in my room
(In my room)

Do my dreaming and my scheming
Lie awake and pray
Do my crying and my sighing
Laugh at yesterday

Now it’s dark and I’m alone
But I won’t be afraid
In my room, in my room
(In my room)

Ah, my studio, my messy, (rat packed as artists will do?), over filled, under organized, far too little space on this earth; let’s just call it a secret little haven, shall we?

Sitting here now, tapping on the keyboard of my trusty old Toshiba, enjoying the cool evening air with the tacky white ceiling fan whirling overhead, watching the sun setting brightly and blissfully, slightly to the left of the Santa Catalina mountains… all of this permits me to breathe deeply without even being aware of my action; for now it is good simply to be here this evening। And the possibilities!

I may go wild and listen to some jazz in a minute or perhaps even plurk somebody. Nevertheless for the moment, for this minute…. I am at a transitory peace, no matter what else is happening.

Wondering now, exactly where is this place we like to call home? Always moving, hopefully I will know sooner than later… continuing to keep my eyes peeled for the next big highway sign.


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