Last night I met the locksmith who covered his shop in keys, 35 years ago.
Here’s the pic’s I’d taken previously (in daylight);
He was in his shop as I passed, looking out and looking friendly.
His shop is a triangle. When you step in you have to stop immediately, and he sits opposite you, in the point.
And talks about keys.
He would prefer to make things out of old ones than cut new ones, but, ya know, he says, and lifts one shoulder. He buys the keys from metal recyclers, but the quality is dropping as time passes, cos, ya know, they turn em over quick nower days, soon there won’t be no more keys… I admired his collections and accumulations, and pointed out my favourites which he brought down to muse over with me.
As I prepared to leave he wagged his finger, stood up on his chair to see into a very high drawer, messed with a key ring for a tick, and then gave me this, to take back to Ostralia.
I’ve had 24 appointments for apartment tours so far. Not all of them show up. Some tell me all about their living situation, why they are in Noo Yoik, their Visa difficulties, their financial status. Some put a lot of effort into friendliness and establishing a rapport, and one remarked that looking at all these apartments was a bit like speed dating. I’ve been asked if I’ve had any trouble with burglaries (I haven’t) weirdness on the stairs (nope) or spirits in the bedroom (!). A few have sat opposite me and chatted for a long long time, about … I can’t remember now. Two have been adamant that they want it, and will absolutely get it, but evidently something interferes with that line of thought before they actually take it. Last night there were 4 parties in the apartment at one time, and one of them returned later to ask more questions. I hope she takes it, she liked it a lot and I liked her. She’s making a film about Greenwich Village and wants to live here to get it right. She liked the windows and ceiling and triangular-ness. I understand.
I’ve been shooting against my lovely brick wall today. Some classes require an electronic copy of everything, again, at the end…
I tried to secure a big studio at uni for late tonight, to do some final bits, but it’s booked continuously until 4am … I’ve booked it from 5am til 9am tomorrow morning, but now I’m home and warm I doubt it, really… I suspect what I can’t shoot against my wall won’t get shot, now.
These are from the last few days (now I’ve looked through my phone and camera!);
Big laundry loads
Brekky with Mel last weekend. She came beautifully accessoried-up to match the cafe.
The queue into the Fish and Kettle, Christopher Street, to watch a football game last Sunday.
Next door is The Stonewall Inn, where the riot was held in 1969, that kicked off the gay liberation movement.
This is the football game on a Very Big TV in the apartment building opposite me.
Dogs in wierd coats
And a man in shudder inducing, weather inappropriate footwear.
This is the official advice to the public that there are no 1, 2 or 3 trains running for now.
Chin ups on the scaffolding
There’s one shopping trolley under there.
And this afternoon, Alex visited;
We did (Un) Fashion together, which was ace, and she’s ace, and now she’s got an ace bike (she’s staying for another semester).
Farewell lovely bike.
This was a sad moment.
There’ll be a few more I guess.