A Vision of Illinois
More than a year ago (I can't remember exactly when.), I found out that
my grandparents were trying to sell their house. It's right on a lake,
which never particularly interested me but apparently greatly interests
the tax authority. The yearly taxes are more than my grandparents can
afford. So they've been looking to sell, but the people interested so far
are rich philistines who'd like to tear down this house and build a new
one. They're only interested in the property, they don't care about the
house. Ever since I found out about the house I've wanted to go there
again before it's too late.
I have an image in my head of what I'm looking for. I imagine myself in
their living room, with a big piece of white paper on the coffee table.
I'm pacing around the room, with that coffee table in the middle, a pencil
in my hand. And on that piece of paper I'm charting out my next game.
There's something appealingly romantic (in the old sense of the word)
about traveling to a place I love, away from all my technology and
friends, to get inspiration for an abstract piece. The thing about
Highland Park is, there's not much to do there. That's the point. Just
me and my art. And maybe some rain out the window. For the weather
it needs to be late in the year, but not too late because my
grandparents go to Arizona for the winter. So I talked to my grandfather,
and he gave me two weeks at the end of November. Two weeks doesn't
seem like enough, but that's what he insisted on (I'm worried he plans
to fill my schedule.), so I'm buying a cheap flight for 23 November.