I have been given a “man cave” in the new apartment. I don’t exactly know how it got to be called a “man cave.” I feel like “man cave” should be the name of a low budget, swiftly cancelled sitcom starring some particularly egregious and misogynist comedian.

Had I been asked – I would have suggested the room by called “my study.” Because the point is to have  a place to work and write. My current contract will eventually end and I will find myself back at home and unemployed, scrounging for gigs. No doubt, a study would be a relaxing and utilitarian sanctuary. I have a desk – custom made by a furniture maker from Staunton, Virginia out of recycled wood stained black. Some bookcases, which are in no way exceptional, being your standard IKEA fare. My record player – a gift from many years ago to replace the massive old stereo I lugged around to play all my vinyl LPs. A little leather covered chest, designed to hold files and papers, but re-purposed to contain my record collection (a gift from my Uncle Kim that I couldn’t figure out what to do with for years, until I discovered it was the perfect size to hold my LPs). And, of course, my old black typewriter.

I’ll post pictures when it’s completed.