I Feel It Is My Duty.

To buy the entire anti-panty collection....

Click Here

....and turn them into coasters.

Fever Does Not A Carpenter Make.

Oh my.
I just ruined the Lypsie would via a very silly mistake.
Fever does not a carpenter make.
I guess this also renders my last post redundant.

And I've been bitten on my thigh by something.

Those beasts!

I should have stuck with telly and drinks today, golly gee.

It Was to be Painted.

I have a beautiful muse-like presence in my life. I quite wanted to paint her and she shyly sent me photos.

It was four am when I stood in the middle of all of my work and decided I must paint her immediately, because inspiration knocked. But then...I went to cut the wood...and none.

Why can't the stores adhere to my artist-like hours? Sadly I packed it in for the night.

The next day I had errands to run and then an appointment to make. Glancing at my watch my heart got sadder and sadder as I realised I could not make it back across town to the hardware store. Then my appointment ran long and I did not get home until after 7. The store shut at 9 but I had no way of making it there. Despair!

Then...then I was out and do you know what I found? 1x. A pile of 1x in great condition, some ends with barcodes still on. Somebody had bought a pile of wood for a project, used what they needed, and thrown the scraps out on the road. A sunbeam streams through. I jump out of the car and run over. Lypsie wood. I smile all the way home.

That night (last night) I fall ill. I sit for one minute before making dinner and then I wake, this morning, in bed. I don't know what happened. And then this morning the fever. I think 'if you can do anything, just paint what you have...don't build anything, muse painting shall have to wait.'

Then...CRACK. Thunder. Lightning. The computers must be turned off, which means I cannot paint afterall.

A wave of sweet storm air. My head clears a little. No way to paint so I must build.

Ahhhh, yes. The foundation for my muse. With the Lypsie wood. Just enough gathered.

This painting just has to get done, no?
At the time I finish sawing the last piece the clouds clear.
I load up my browser.
And run to her photos.

Words Words Words

I have the burning sensation to write text all over my paintings. Or at least..partly over.

I'm an ex-poet.

I fear the poet is coming back!

I just....I want to scribble *more*. And in places for it to be read. Really read. I always read text on a painting.

And I have so much to scribble.

But when is the line crossed from scribbling to graffitting?

I'm not sure.

Maybe I must write so tiny. So tiny you wouldn't know unless nose-to-nose.

Maybe I should do that.

Secrets in the work.

Secrets work.

Secret secrets.

Yes.
I like that.
The secret soul that leaks.

Untitled.

Hmmm. What?

When people used to fall ill, it was suggested they either go to the countryside or the oceanside to recuperate.

Whatever happened to that sparkly idea, hmmm?

Creating the World you Live in.

Day before last a friend sent me Fairy Dust in the mail. Magical, no?
Yesterday another friend send me the planets and stars, new myths and old legends. Beautiful.

There was also another little beautiful cycle going on....A beautiful idea (SYTs) lead to a beautiful photo being submitted, led to a beautiful painting, led to a beautiful thank-you note. Which, of course, leaves me inspired to paint beautiful things today.

I really like to believe the world is what you make it.
I *do* believe in karma.
I do believe in beauty.

So I think...if I can just make my paintings more beautiful, put more beauty into the universe, then - naturally - more beautiful things will happen in general.

I don't want to believe in the villain, standing under my balloon with an evil pin. Of course, reality also suggest this exists. So you know what you ought to do should the villian appear? You ought to kiss him and hold his hand and make him beautiful too.

Because that's what makes the sun come out.
And with the sun comes the flowers and trees.
From the flowers and trees come paint and wood.
And from paint and wood comes beautiful paintings.

And that's where my life should be stepping in.


More soon.
xxxS.