White Walls

While the bloggers of The Cut are gratuitously ogling the bulges, guns and abs of the Phelps from all around the world, while Bryanboy is yapping about latex leggings recently seen tightly hugging the barely-there thighs of an Olsen, this upstart is knee deep in white paint. And no, I am not trying to do a Jackson Pollock.

So many words, and so much more names, but do these things and these people really mean anything to me? Not really.

Because somehow, I have managed to cut them off from my life for what seemed like decades, but was really just two days. As I have said, I was knee deep in white paint - painting every square inch of my brand new bedroom. 

And now, it's finished.

What has amazed me though, apart from the discovery that my tears of disappointment seem to dilute oil-based paint, is that achieving white walls is one of the harder things to achieve in interior design. I am of course speaking as an amateur, a charlatan who knows nothing about interior design. 

Being ever so quick in transmuting from confused to Confucius, I realised, from my sparklingly anal white walls and the metaphor that has arisen from it, that simplicity is one of the harder things to achieve.

My walls took four coats of paint in order for them to to fine. And another two to make them fabulous. All in all, I have added a depth of two inches to my walls, and consequently reduced my room in that proportion.

Similarly, simplicity takes a lot of coats to master. It requires considerable precision and restraint. You have to know when to put down that brush, otherwise the walls would be too white - if ever such a thing existed.

And clearly, this drunken fool has not yet mastered the art of writing simply. Why use just one word when you can use ten to beat around the bush with?

Photo Souce: nymag.com