Sometimes I feel like a character out of The Little Prince, one of the ones living on his own planet. Instead of counting the stars or drinking heavily or lighting lamps, I sit on my planet and wonder why none of my art is selling, why no one wants any of my little stars, yet I keep them all tucked away inside my studio. I tantrum over not catching any fish without a line or net in the water.
Internet doesn't count. Ish.
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I have a lot of pots... and kettles... and sauce pans... and pizza trays... on many burners... some on stoves that don't even seem to be mine?
It's like being shivering cold, having withstood the colossal freeze of night, at twilight dawn... aching for the sun to come up over the horizon. I can see the alpenglow of all the things i've got brewing and I am running to keep up with the light on each peak of opportunity. or something like that. or maybe i just put my paint brush in my tea and the only pot i need is the one that holds coffee now. The days are getting busier and longer at the same time. Hooray for Yule doing it's thing and being over with and having the twilight happen later and later in the evening.
My urge to drink wine at 3pm because it feels like Happy Hour in the evening is subsiding, but my desire to get in bed around 6:30pm for a full night of sleepy time is not. I really like my sleepy time... as a matter of fact, it's 6:45pm right now... and as the elderly of west coast America begin preparing their tv dinners... with their little long toe nail'd toes all tucked in their slippers and favorite robe on... I find myself tucked in my robe as well, crawling into bed, getting ready to read myself to sleep. |
Mallory Mishlerwhere i'll post the in's, out's, tween's, and twixt's of my world of art mixed with pictures, links, opinions, and rants. (oh, and curse words. lots of curse words) Archives
September 2018
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