Penthouse @ MindSay 
ooia 23/1/08 
Upon entering, this is the first thing you see. It is the hall that leads to 3 bedrooms.
Our bedroom is on the left and has its own bathroom.
To the right is a dining area and the kitchen. This kitchen is not the most useful. The cabinets are too
short for most of the people who live here, and the DH has hit his head on the exhaust fan more than once!
To the left is the downstairs living area. The couch and chairs are better suited for an office, as they
are extremely uncomfortable! We've got the computer connected to the TV and this is where we
usually watch DVDs, documentaries and movies in the evening. One of our flatmates installed a
surround sound speaker system, and with the huge space, it feels like a cinema.
Beyond the living area is the laundry room and a place for hanging clothes to dry.
Another view of the downstairs living area.
The upstairs living area. This area is a bit smaller than the downstairs and it is usually flooded with light.
However, being the attic of the building, it is also quite warm. Good in the winter, terrible in the summer.
The upstairs hall leading to four more bedrooms and a bathroom. The eighth bedroom is directly behind.
The balcony. We bought a barbecue pit and had a party here a few weekends ago. In the evenings,
this is the best place in the house. The last week has been really hot and it is great to sit up here and
admire the stars. I hope to get some lounge chairs and plants up here soon.
The view from the balcony out to the river.
The Year in Review . . . 2006
- Jobsites . . .
- I began 2006 working on a BDSM dungeon in Santa Monica and finished the year in a Penthouse on Ocean Front Walkway in Venice . . .
- The Business . . .
- Started the business with one referral, billed work for 313 days . . . incorporated . . . crime scenes . . . speciality work . . .
- "Something to offer" . . . {Translation = $.Money}
- Paid for all expenses . . . "nothing" place to live . . . reinvested in the business . . . savings/investment account . . . and wound up with no more "spending money" than when I started . . . but no debts . . . and still a nothing place to live . . .
-
- Personal
- The two couples I have been close to . . . both had baaaby girls and moved away . . . starting new exciting parts of their lives
- Offered a gallery show this summer at Bergamot Station, Santa Monica
- Offered to sail with a friend to Spain . . . {maybe too much time off though}
- Offer from a publishing agent to edit a manuscript and professionally submitted . . . {no guarantee, but "a good story"}
-
- Resolutions
- Gold's Gym - Venice; working out with Joey Escobar
- Next step(s) in "The Plan" . . .
- Say my prayers . . . {still the same one though}
- More time to . . .
- Stop listening to the bullshit of drama queens . . . here's a quarter!
-
G.
P.S.
- Loose Ends . . . {carried over to 07}
- Finding a new place to live . . . possessions, tools and vehicles all under one roof . . . hopefully
- Websites . . . paid for and never done . . . new designer with real experience . . .
- "Message In A Bottle" . . .
- Tying up loose ends . . . once and for all . . .
-
P.P.S. Happy New Year and all my love . . . to those on Mindsay that finished the year after starting it with me . . .
The street entry opens up where you can hold the door open and let the others in your party in, but I shut the door behind us, used the same key to summon our elevator and took that moment to pull her close to me. At the beginning of a moment-to-moment kiss, the elevator door arrives too soon. Stepping into the elevator she presses me into the corner and continues the kiss. The door opens four stories up and we step into a glass transition and she gets her first glimpse of the moon over the ocean to her right with the coast and the lights of Santa Monica and LA sweeping on around . . . for a moment she stops, long enough for me to stand behind her and put my arms around her waist and take a chance by whispering in her ear. She giggles and puts her hand over mine . . . looks out at the moon.
A few steps and then through the French doors, stepping into the softly illuminated flat, I touch the lighting control and turn on the suspended lights in the kitchen area. I take her wrap off her shoulders, set it aside and direct her to the right where she sees the moon again over the water. She walks ahead and puts her fingertips ahead of her, making sure of the glass doors there. The western wall consists of floor to ceiling heavy glass with double sliding glass doors. To the right and left, the north and south walls are similarly fitted with double sliding doors to give a panoramic view and access to the deck.
One wall of the kitchen is made up of separate refrigerator, freezer . . . and a wine cooler with an insulated glass door, making it easier to ponder your selection before opening it and disturbing the controlled atmosphere. "What is your preference?" I put two Bordeaux glasses out.
She slips off her heels and walks up looking in the cooler. "Ummm . . . this?" She's selected the wine confidently, she has always surprised me, so her palet is just another allure.
I pour for her, and after a sip she smiles and nods, holding her glass for me to fill. A couple of sips to savor the wine and then she leans to me for a kiss. She steps past me and walks towards the moon, opens the door and the cool sea breeze brushes her hair off her shoulders. She takes a sip and then a breath to let the salt air mix with the bouqet of the wine. I bring the bottle with me and join her on the terrace. Ocean Front Walk is far below us, the beach beginning only a few feet ahead. There is some sound of the restaurants alont the walk, rising and falling, the stray bit of conversation from people walking below. We both look at a couple, her carrying a child, out for their evening walk, the sounds fade and you can just hear the break of the waves.
"You think they're making plans?" I asked. She continued to look at the couple and I refreshed her glass.
"Oh yes. She has made them, he's finding out. Poor man." She laughed and looked in my eyes and this time I leaned to her for kiss. She parted her lips and leaned against me.
We stood there for the longest time, I pointed places out along the coast, we could see all the way to Malibu. She pointed where the islands, Two Harbors, would be out there in the dark and we looked back over Venice and towards LA. I kissed her neck, her fragrance mixing with the slightest damp sweat and the ocean breeze.
We saw the couple having the baby returning from their walk. She was holding him close now. There was just enough wine to refill both our glasses left. We savored each sip and she kissed my cheek.
"Ummm . . . must be the wine." She took another sip and smiled mischeviously.
"Hmmm? What?"
"Well, I'm beginning to make plans, of my own . . . "
G.
P.S. We have seen the city; it is the gibbous
Mirrored eye of an insect. All things happen
On its balcony and are resumed within . . . John Ashbury
In the 1890's a tobacco mogul by the name of Abbot Kinney had a dream to turn marshland west of Los Angeles into the "Coney Island of the Pacific" with a renaissance resort, casino and amusement park. It was to be designed to be culturally reminiscent of Venice, Italy complete with canals, gondolas . . . the works. Today Venice Beach offers a mile of beach front, surfing, street performers, artists and a eclectic lifestyle that is rated third only to San Francisco's "Mission District" and New Orleans.
I have had three adventures in Venice. My First Adventure, was selling my "artwork" on Ocean Front Walkway right on the beach with the street performers and artists. There are a few guidelines for display and sales, I found a likely place early, and put out my metal sculptures. Some were pendant size, some would display nicely on a table or shelf, and some would be mounted on a wall.
In my best worn jeans (I wore the jeans I paint and do drywall in since they look the most "artistic"), "SexWax" tee shirt or my LA County Coroner's tee shirt, Doc Marten sandals and Ray Ban Wayfarer's . . . I 'exhibited my work' . . . Surely you can imagine my surprise when I was critiqued and praised for the "symbolism, poignant insights and cultural statement" that my artwork captured so well . . . Okay, so who am I to argue? I talked to people from all over . . . LA . . . California . . . Japan, Germany, Great Britain, Belgium and Canada . . .
. . . and sold everything! Some of my patrons gave me their address and I promised to send a "trashy postcard" from Venice Beach . . . I was photographed with them and I'll forever be "The Art of Me" guy in their vacation photo albums.
During my time there, I shared coffee and snacks . . . was the foil in several guerrilla-theatre performances . . . had my 'aura' polished . . . my artwork was blessed by three different faiths, got a henna tattoo . . . and two Tarot card readers shared a tender moment with me when my fate/destiny was told and reaffirmed when two identical readings of cards were displayed . . .
No one thinks twice about having a personal relationship with their doctor or lawyer. The fact that you feel as though you mean enough to them to be personal, or that you trust them with areas of your life that are confidential and intimate, especially that they have your best interest at heart . . . can make them trusted and dear friends. I am very fortunate that many of my clients take the same attitude with me, trusting me to have their best interests at heart when I'm asked to do something for them. I love the elements of my work, but I am terribly vain and have to admit that I struggle to conceal my pride, or modesty, when I turn their property back over to them. If I'm lucky I have not betrayed their trust and enjoy seeing the look in their eyes.
Gene is that kind of client that believes, without any doubt, that I am his personal property. I find myself scrambling, stretching my knowledge and experience in order not to let him down. For example, my first job with him was dismantling a "dungeon" in Santa Monica and restoring the two story building. You can refer to one of the first few things I wrote here when I described it, and the patrons that continued to drop by not knowing it had closed . . .
Gene owns quite a bit of property along the coast of Southern, and Northern California, and shares a large place at the Newport Beach Marina with his partner, Lance. He doesn't think twice about committing me to a wide range of projects, without consulting me beforehand and always when "it has to be done by . . ." When I quietly came home, unnoticed, early Friday and planned on two . . . maybe three . . . days off, he brings me a "new project" with the wine and beef for the "Kabobs Luis" we're all having for our early dinner . . .
My Third Adventure in Venice Beach is a three story building that Gene bought right on Ocean Front Walkway. The first floor sits above a private should-be-secure underground parking garage, and has shops along the walkway, professional offices with street access behind. The second and third floors are new luxury apartments with intercom/keypad code/card reader secured entry. The roof has private elevator/stairway access to the "Penthouse".
The Penthouse sits four stories overlooking Ocean Front Walkway . . . where I sold my artwork, had my 'aura' polished and my Tarot read . . and where we planned on taking walks when she was pregnant . . . just a few blocks away from, walking distance from, our place . . . Adventure Two . . .
It looks out to the Pacific and the lovely picture perfect ladies sunning themselves on the beach, guerrilla theatre, artists . . . the locals who walk there . . . And on a clear day you can see the coastline all the way to Malibu. When it's completed, this 1400 sq. ft. apartment with private deck, detached second bedroom, and a 'well equipped' kitchen, will lease for a minimum of $32,000.00 . . . per month.
The contractor has been stealing, the work is chaotic and inspections are not being met. The pre-leased apartments are not ready for tenants who want them and . . . the thought crossed one inspectors mind who called Gene at home . . .
"What you SHOULD do is call the NTSB instead of the City. It's a plane wreck out here!"
He fired the contractor on Friday afternoon, I found out Friday night, "G, I need you there on Monday."
G.
P.S. Its within walking distance of . . . 3 blocks from the beach