levels. it's all about levels

I wish I could bottle the exact moment a dirty, dusty space becomes something else altogether in your mind.

I don't necessarily believe in divine inspiration. Because I know my brain has been quietly processing and building to this moment the whole time. I mean, my brother and I have been talking about organizing this little get together in the back section of the the Mothership for what seems like forever now. Who knows how many hundreds (hundreds? thousands...) of times I have walked past that dusty little corner where the conveyor belt used to be. Or how many hours I have spent carefully organizing and combing through the old Terzo decor in the big room directly facing it - wondering how the hell it would all put itself back together again.

And then it hits and your brain is jolted out of screen saver mode. Today, it was my brother mentioning the word stairs as he was plastering around the Freq Shop door on the ladder.

Suddenly I've got a little project on my hands. The secret vending machine and Billiardini table have already been mentally placed. I ripped the rotten gyp from the cinder block wall to expose the steel column. More texture. Now I can see the beige lamp dangling from the trusses and the old rocking chair with the burnt orange seat sitting solitaire n the corner. Even that steel bridge we found in the garbage so many years ago will find a home somewhere on the walls. All of it will.

And of course the old Terzo Piano sign - the one we symbolically carved out of the wall the last night the place belonged to us. Before it went back into the grubby hands of our asshole ex-landlord.

Soon to be the centrepiece of it all.