Jun 6, 2003
June she'll change her tune.
I have been painting.
The grey, cottony ceiling of the gloomy sky today was welcome to me. The chill was welcome. I didn't long for sunrays, as I sometimes do. When it's grey like that, you don't mark the passing of the hours so clearly. You don't pay attention. There is no telltale rose-tinged sunset hue to foretell the coming of night. The night just comes, and it's upon you all of a sudden. And you've had the lights on all day anyway.
I let the art supply store inspire me today. I let myself have dreams and plans of the showing off of skills still out of my reach. But I did not fear reaching for them. I longed for it. I can only be pleased when I am set off in a day when I feel like making a great, greedy lunge at my future and whatever ambitions attract me. It's like being set on fire with the only hope of dousing it a palpable handful of something to be proud of. Sure, it slips through your fingers quickly, but while you're grasping, it has emollient properties.
In restless walks, she'll prowl the night.
posted by Mary Forrest at 1:41 AM | Back to Monoblog