Two weeks ago I was running up the steps of Chaz's Bull City Records store two at a time, like I do when I get too excited about something. We'd signed the lease and now had keys to a space. Six shiny gold keys.
Okay, so truth be told, the walls are a little lumpy, we have our own moldy biosphere and there are bars on the windows, but it's a space. A whole space. Undefined. Empty.
Fast forward two weeks and it's a little less empty. Friends and supporters showed up armed with paint, rollers, rugs and glass cutters. They stood on rickety ladders to scrape stubborn wallpaper paste off plaster... spray painted the bars in colors that would put Crayola to shame... and rolled out a glossy blue floor to the sweet sounds of southern rock.
We've filled the space with memories, late nights, points of contention; old highschool posters, area rugs and an odd office chair or two.
Now we're battening down the hatches for the week ahead to get the space ready for the opening. We'll see you there.