M.M. lives with me; we live together, and it's smooth so far. We had a brief disagreement over the placement of a corner shelf, but after some alone time, we got over it.
Walked to the carts at Greeley and Killingsworth, had fat korean noodles. Ate chocolate croissants and said hello to a chub-tailed young black cat. Bought $6.00 rainbow beer, walked across a freeway, felt sunset, felt Friday, felt change and the holy winds up inside of my heart like a sad weeping song.
I've decided to live with the easel in the living room, after all. I was going to put it in storage; I haven't used it in months. But I was having some sort of intense separation anxiety... I'm 30; putting something away now has the significance of "okay. I'm out of time on that. I will never do that again." Really! You think I jest? I do not! I know that I'm just a baby, but I am scared. I have too much unfinished business on my plate and it feels like some stuff will inevitably have to fade away for me to find focus. I do not want my painting to be one of things, after all.
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