My Masterpiece

Is going to be painting this attic.

I can’t, granted, do anything about the skim job on the drywall, which leaves something to be desired (And by something, I mean everything, because there are no straight lines, and I’m going to have to make my own, shadows be damned).  It’s really actually rather quite fucking fucked, this skim job, if you look closely–which I’ve been doing for the past week or so.  In fact, I could spend three weeks prepping these walls and there would still be inexplicable bulges and faux corners.  And trim work that struts its hips at every seam.  It wouldn’t work.  It might even look crappier, if you can believe it.

You can’t.

The dents, for the record, are from my youth–the holes and the gaps, however, are not (see ‘skim job,’ above)–or no, well… yeah.  Some of the holes are ours, sure.  From when we were into darts for three weeks, for example.  But the larger point being that my brother, my sister, and I–with assorted rabble-rousing cohorts–took the attic over as soon as my parents had it halfway renovated, and it became a place to destroy.  They never had a chance to finish it, which was probably good for them, because we did in fact destroy it.

All in good fun, of course.

How now?

Yes.  So it’s my masterpiece, I’ve decided.  It’s the symbolic destruction of my youth.  It’s long overdue.  Speaking of which, that was coincidentally ambiguous.  The last sentence.  No not that one, the one before the one before this one.  The “It’s long overdue” one.  You can’t tell if its the symbolic destruction of my youth that’s long overdue, or the paint job.  Good for me.  I’ve made you think.

(How post-modern.)  And today I painted the chimney and the trim around it, so that I could push everything object in the room into a massive pile around the chimney and access the walls, the baseboard, some of the trim–finish the motherfucking prep work, you know?  I need to finish that motherfucking prep work, which could take, you know, three weeks (see ‘skim job,’ again, above), or one day.  And I’ve decided to go the one-day route, because I’m not a drywaller, and because most people won’t be able to tell anyway.

So sue me.

It’s still my masterpiece.

You’ll see.


2 responses to “My Masterpiece

  1. Some might even call it your “Sistine Crapel.”

    Perhaps you could convince your brother to create a large scale mock-up of Spam Man on the ceiling?

  2. I love reading your blogs dude, always interesting. I think you should do something crazy. Blue tape some crazy lines, clear caulk, paint, remove, repeat with different colors, sit back and drink a beer while looking at your ‘masterpiece’.

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