Perforated Lines (you can't resist 'em!)

 welcome home

rose-- Wednesday, July 28, 1999 --rose

------------

 

 

11:37 a.m. Late last night, while wandering around one of the Apple sites, I found the perfect place to live: a little place called IconTown. Everything is so neat and so perfect and so -- on the level.

In fact, you can even download directions for getting yourself all squared up and ready to move in:

be square to be there

So everything can be all nice and neat.

Needless to say, I was not the kind of kid who had the luxury of having a dollhouse when I was growing up. There was a certain amount of destruction and hasty fleeing in the night, so packing up any extraneous teeny tables and chairs and tumblers was frowned upon. Also needless to say, but say it I will, I am the kind of adult who would love to go on eBay and repair the ravages of my youth and buy every last miniature Hepplewhite and Chippendale and scuttle and ... but I don't, of course. Because I am sane.

And, I believe that for the first few months, I would be a good citizen there in Smallsville. I would really try hard to fit in, because I am a great fan of perfection. I shoot for it. I really do.

Here would be my house:

house

I stole this one from Hide Itoh, along with some doughnuts and kitchen appliances. This criminal behavior probably does not bode well for my tenure in IconTown, but ... nonetheless.

Inside this house I will establish control once and for all.

 

No little doggy claws are going to be scratching at the velvet sofa arms; no little Cheetos are crumbling beneath the cushions. The table setting is set for good, the fragile china shines, the silver sparkles, the glasses glisten. It will be a successful life. Dammit.

Merely follow a few simple rules.

You can have a chandelier in every room if you want one, and a pale rug that stays clean in the bedroom. The thread count in there is insanely high and you never hear the sad, mournful sound of the cat's stomach turning over and over before she pitches her wet dinner exactly where your bare feet will land on the floor when you leap out of bed.

Here are all the pretty colors for your world:

A strict sense of order and control will keep the gods and the spirits and the hot breath of life, messy and irrational, away from this house. It will be so pure a place that even the primordial cockroach will not bother to skitter surreptitiously across a shadowy surface, little feelers going a mile a minute, looking for God only knows what they've been looking for all these millions and millions of years.

I'm packing my bags as we speak. I'm moving on ... up? In? To the small side. Where trouble melts, that's where, if you have a magnifying glass, you'll find me.

The mayor (and creator) of IconTown is Bernd Holzhausen, an independent designer and illustrator in Frankfurt, Germany. Uh-oh. Germany. If you want to move in, you have to go through a bit of red tape at the Town Hall, but really, it's worth it. Go ahead, hammer up your mezuzah on the door post. It's another beautiful day in the neighborhood -- I'm sure no one will mind.

Enjoy a visit and come back with loads of neat-o stuff!
And come back here tomorrow!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

email Street Mail Shadow Lawn Press archives index

roseyesterday Julytomorrowrose

-- all verbiage © Nancy Hayfield Birnes --