January 14, 2010
I Want to Live Here
See more pictures of tiny solar houses here.
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- Deron Bauman: yep.
- Deron Bauman: to put it another way, I’ve been looking for a worse first sentence for fifteen years. and the...
- Michael Lang: Fifteen years is impressive. Crap to stand the test of time
- Deron Bauman: I found mine fifteen years ago.
- Michael Lang: Wow, while I’ve plenty of ideas for awful, I don’t even know where to begin with judging...
- Coop: Love this. Will go now to the others.
- Terence: Pretend like you don’t care and let the resentment slowly come to a boil over a period of years,...
- Aaron Winslow: Of course, you eat cake with your hands. You’re lusty, bold fellows who know how to kick up your...
- Rick neece: Danny and I will do everything in our power to have the boys here when you visit,
- Michael Lang: Get pissy, stew over whether I’m going to be able to deal with that, become the person’s...
- Dave Vogt: I eat cake with my hands, sometimes. Honestly, I’ve just always been more of a cookie man.
- walt: I think that if it hasn’t come up until now, either in discussion of politics or the author, that it...
- OP: We’ve been sort of drifting apart, for mostly geographic reasons. So it goes.
- Sheila Ryan: Taking a look!
- Sheila Ryan: If I come visit Rick and Danny, will you come over, Robert? (You, too, Doc?) And maybe we could track...
Love it.
I love the idea of a tiny solar house, but for god’s sake, this one looks like it would be marketed as Miniature Suburban Quaint. I hate it bad.
This site is fantastic. Thanks, Daryl! Of course this is a live topic for me at the moment, with my own Tiny Cabin In The Field.
I want to live in Lucy’s Hut. Maybe I could hut-sit for Lucy when she is in Brooklyn, America.
Daryl, what a wonderful place. I think we could all find a use for such a place. I’m already mentally cutting down trees.
I bought my purple rug today. We had to drive all the way to Cork for it. I hope this is the last bit of all this decorating shit. It is a crazy place, Sheila. You haven’t seen what it has become. It is deranged.
To clarify: not mid-century minimalist.
Lucy, I am imagining the hut’s interior as a place where an odalisque might recline.
I did not mean it to turn out like this, though I made it.
Lucy, I think I could say that about virtually anything I have ever made.
Okay, I had to look up ‘odalisque’, and thank you for helping me to build on my erotic slave history education, Sheils. So… perhaps if said odalisque was a whacked out technicolour space gypsy, she might come and take tea there.
Offering erotic slave history education is one of the things a consulting archivist and historian does.
I hope you have a good hourly rate.
About your last point: yes, yes that is true, and it is arresting to see how it works out when your imagination is at play on something that you have never done before. This is the first little cabin I have made and decorated, and I have had very strong opinions about all of it. And to my eyes, it really comes together, though madly. It really feels like a different planet out there. I think I needed that.
Look what I just found. 6 feet wide, over – they say – five floors. Also, in Manhattan, this.
Lucy!
I love these!
I can’t imagine you haven’t already posted pics of the hut as finished. If you have, post the link. If you haven’t, girl, you ain’t done yet. Take ‘em. Post ‘em up.
XOR
Lovely finds, Lucy. I could happily live in either of these. And I, too, would love to see more pictures of the place you built.
Ross says you would start dreaming of wider rooms, and I agree. I love my hut, but in terms of full time full on all the time living, goddammit I have a need for high ceilings and wide rooms!
Yes, well today I dragged my dad to Cork with me to buy this sort of preposterous purple rug, and I will unwrap it tomorrow and see how it is in the Hut. You’re right, Rick, it’s not done until the camera goes click and freezes it in some moment of pretendy finishedness, but lately the kinds of things I’m doing are bringing stuff out to fill the (plain wood but nonetheless whacked out) bookshelves and thinking about the actual non-structural, non-decorating work I need to do now in this next few weeks. In the hut, rather than on the hut. I’m keen to get rid of the drill bits and the drill (which has lately been my constant companion) and all the fiddling with furniture and froufrou, and Make Things With Words.
I also want to buy a couple of bottles of prosecco and get some people out here and show it off a little. I’ve brought people out there but I usually end up showing them the places where I blocked off draughts and stuff. I’m a total nerd over this.
I think you will safely find yourself not at all drawn to living there, Daryl! It’s unbelievably she-ish out there. I sort of wonder if it will make me puke. It makes me nervous. I am hugely drawn to it. Once I’ve hoovered, ye will get my pics. Oh, and once I’ve finally upgraded to flickr pro. Got to do that soon.
Can’t wait to see it Lucy. I’m with Sheila. If we could babysit it sometime when you need someone to babysit it, might you consider Danny and me? (After I finally get my passport.) Know this, we, you and we, will have had plenty of company together that you would have no qualms leaving her with us. And you will have spent enough time with us, that you would be glad to leave us behind there.
)
Rick, will y’all find it distracting if an odalisque is lounging in Lucy’s hut?
I doubt it Shiela, though now I also have to look up odalisque and see.
If three of you are planning to be in there at the same time, we will have to build an extension.
Also the dogs will get really really perplexed.
It’s all right. I’ll rent a car and sleep in it. I’ll imagine that I’m in my Element.
You can lounge in my hut and imagine you’re in your Element. It won’t be hard.
I will learn to whisper the dogs before we get there. Lucy. (Actually, I whisper my boss’s dogs all the time here at the office.) As for the extension, we’ll work it all out long before then, perhaps there’s an inn or Motel 6 nearby? If not, we’ll work it out I promise. Maybe pallets on the floor for the three of us, chit-chatting, until one of us is last standing, still talking among the three of us. (I’d wager it would be me still talking. I’m not saying I’d be coherent.)
XOR
Yeah, but sooner or later, somebody would have to piss.
So they just go up the Pissarro.
And here’s another thing Sheils, these feckin odalisques, there’s just not the same business these days, not so many of these sultans hiring, and all yer odalisques are only lounging all over the place down the dole queue. It’s a real shame, a real shame.
You take a walk down the social, it’s full of odalisques, lounging.
Time was, an ambitious young girl weren’t yet so proud she’d turn up her nose at a chance to apprentice to a courtesan in a proper seraglio, but these days they can’t be bothered.
Can’t be bothered. If it in’t no sultan, well, I’ll be as well off with my benefits, she says. Crying shame.
There’s more to it than flashing your big bottom and casting a coy look and then you’re on Easy Street.
I could see having a tiny house on a hillside with a screened-in porch on all four sides. The central part would be a room about 10 x 10, with a high-pitched roof so it could go out over the porches. Also–a sleeping loft and a 10 x 10 basement for storage. Hammocks on the porches all around for fair weather visitors. And then a shed-like building added very nearby with a bigger kitchen, bathroom, and dining area. And a very small and silent electric train (the kind found at old zoos) that would whisk everybody around the lake and though the woods and back. Okay–getting too Disneyland–so lets say porno movies showing on the side of the shed, starting at sundown….
Naaooo, they don’t wannoo work, do they? Naaaaooo, they’ll take their jobseeker’s and spread more lard on their chips. Naaaoo, you’ve got to have a look out for yer cherub, don’t you? Got to get yourself a proper cherub at least. Half a chance.
It’s porn flicks projected on sheds as put odalisques and courtesans out of work.
Oooh it’s just not dignified, is it? Without yer concubines in business, well, there is no trade for odalisques.
A tiny house on a hillside with a screened-in seraglio for the gentleman from Texas.
We have mentioned a monorail for out here.
A piss ain’t a problem for me, I’d step outside (far enough away, I promise). Also, sometimes for others. A poop, though? I’d need a place to be. I’ve said this before (meaning comedy, you know), “Eventually, all conversations turn to shit.“
Want to talk about my experiences posing as an odalisque. Also do not want.
You could post as Christopher Walken. Nobody would ever ever guess.
Daryl, have you ever thought of putting a tent up in the attic or something, with a rope ladder that only you can access? Just a thought. I’m watching the Royal Tenenbaums and there’s this scene with the tennis star son in a really rather nicely kitted out tent. I used to have a tent in my flat, in Dublin.
A couple of days ago, the NYT published a feature on (middle-class American) people who live without any form of central heating system. Some dudes in one of the reaches of NYC had a yurt within their (unheated) dwelling.
I bet we could all stake out our own private places within the abandoned olive oil factory, and heating would not even be an issue, except for wusses.
Lucy–when I was ten I built a fort in my parents’ attic. It wasn’t a high-pitched roof so I couldn’t really stand up straight. I kept my rock collection up there on the ledge of a triangular vent that let some light in. Some of the rocks looked best when wet, so I had them in bottles of water. I sat up there when I could sneak away, writing long notes in which I disparaged people I believed had done me wrong. Many years later my parents found some of these bits when they cleaned out the attic. One of them, written in pencil on a scrap of wood, was something I wrote soon after I had discovered the wonderful mystery of the future perfect tense. I remembered that moment in the attic perfectly when I read “By this time next week I will have left for summer camp.”
I guess these days my garden is my tent. I go out there and feel enclosed in green, in a way that is at once protected and strangely open in time and place, reaching back into what has always made dirt good, and rot a promise.
We all need a tent. My Element is my tent. My tent is my element.
That’s a very good way to display your rock collection.
I feel the way you describe you feel in your garden, when I am in wild nature. There’s a glade at the end of the place here, it’s got that quality of peculiar openness to it. Wild hazel trees, ferns, mosses and a stream. But the tree branches kind of curl around, protecting it and giving it the feeling of a hideaway. I love very enclosed forests for this reason. My hut, however, feels completely out of space and time. It is some kind of carpeted Tardis.
I am very lazy at the moment and have not taken pictures. I think partly it is because I am still the only person who has actually been inside it in its current state of kind-of-completedness. There’s something really really great about that, and I suppose I am somewhat reluctant to post it on the internet, you know? It’s like your attic fort, it’s a hideaway.
I’ve even sealed up the front windows for the winter, with space blankets and aluminium thermal wrap, so it feels very private. Not bunkery, it’s still light, a bit like a caravan. I say all this because I really do want to share with ye what I have done to the space, pics etc. but right now I feel like when I am out there, I am in this very nicely kitted out solitude. Wifi does not even reach through the insulation at the moment. I suppose I will get around to doing something about that sooner or later, but it’s all good right now.
Wildness. Not human. Not inhuman. Not human.
Lucy
Save, then, the pic takin’ for another day, if ever. I have a pic already in my head and your description here put it there. When I see it in real life, if ever, it will be physically different than I imagined. Spiritually, however, I figure it will be exactly as I imagined, a fortress protected from the trials of a day.
You know? I felt this once before, at a gathering on a farm near Telephone, Texas.
You are welcome to come and visit, Rick. Any time.
That’s me with the fort in the attic, not Cindy. Cindy doesn’t climb.
Thank you, Lucy, I hope to hold you to your invitation, some day.
Bring a potty. Colostomy bag also useful. I’m just sayin.