Here’s a bit of a weird one. I’ve always loved basements. I suppose it’s because I’ve mostly lived in place without basements. I don’t know why I like basements so much. It seems like they’d be a place for anxiety to fester – only one way in and out, usually dark, often unfinished, smelly and dank with all the sounds of things like water heaters and furnaces. Even finished basements have some of these features.
But they’re so secluded. Usually quiet, peaceful and cooler than anywhere else in a house even in the summer. There’s something about being underground that I like, too. It’s cozy in it’s own way – or maybe it’s just that invites one to get cozy.
Basements seem like just about the perfect practice space for a band other than having to load your gear up and down stairs – blah!
You can’t always tell how much time has passed in a basement. When I’m really flowing with something, I feel like time isn’t passing at all. Stuff’s just happening. Basements can simulate that sense.
I mentioned before that I loved my Little Grammy’s basement in Fruit Heights, UT. I have a lot of soothing dreams that are set there and usually feature her, my mom, my sister and my older younger brother as a very little kid.
Anytime I have a chance to be in a basement, I get excited. I’m grateful for those times.