the stars...the moon...they have all been blown out...

..and I am left in the dark, here in my new writing/cello/knitting room, but moreso because the walls and ceiling are painted dark blue than because there was a short circuit in the heavens caused by someone leaving someone else and a song being written about it and played with really loud drums. (Great song by the way, especially with the volume turned up. Great album, too, come to that. She gives me the urge to dye my hair bright red.)

This room used to be a nursery, and there is a moon and stars mural painted on the walls, like so:

The mural drifts across the top of all four walls. My astronomy is a little rusty, but I believe the dots on the ceiling are meant to resemble actual constellations. Groups of them look like constellations, anyway.

It's a tiny room, and too small for a guest room, so it's become a creativity room instead. For the first time in my life, I have a whole room devoted to nothing but creative stuff. I'm already spending a lot of time in here writing and sawing away on my cello. It's a cozy knitting space, too, especially while listening to audiobooks (just downloaded Brian Greene's latest book through the local library, along with American Bloomsbury, which is about the writers living in and around Concord, Massachusetts between the 1840s and 1880s - Louisa May Alcott, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Henry David Thoreau, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and Margaret Fuller).

The biggest revelation for me in this room is that since I don't have downstairs neighbors anymore and since the walls of this room don't share common walls with my new neighbors, I can play my cello whenever I damn well please. I hope my timidity and embarrassed self-consciousness while playing will decrease and my volume and practice hours (and hopefully, skill) will increase as a result of this new-found playing freedom.

I think the moon and stars mural will stay up for awhile. I like it. It seems to me that when you have the moon and stars in your very own creative room, pretty much anything is possible, don't you think? Oscar Wilde did (..."with freedom, books, flowers, and the moon, [and cello and knitting], who could not be happy?").