that apartment, that girl

Cardboard colored rooms would've pleased me just fine. I saw Rear Window for the first time before I had my first apartment. I love the over-sized frames sporting black and white action shots, dusty shelves with rough-edge books, piled magazines, a tiny hidden kitchenette opposite, probably with a dented tin can of spilled Chase and Sanborn, and those large bay windows.

And the low light area lamp shades that Lisa. Carol. Fremont. snaps on as she semi-pirouettes through the room. Just enough space for one. But with atmosphere enough to attract a insecure girl looking for a comfortable place to bed down. She would add all the color needed to bring the place to life.

But she wouldn't have to wear a flowing dress to climb up and down ladders, and I would be smart enough to have extra film to snap Kodachrome telephoto slides of suspicious goings on rather than having to rely on probables and assigning the girl in the dress to prow the dark neighborhood. And certainly a well oiled rifle with scope to take out any songwriter that might consider creating three annoying high-pitched chipmunks.