Tuesday, September 16, 2014

A Fog after the Rain


Tomorrow is garbage day, so I went out after midnight and took the bins to the curb.  Garbage and recycling.

It has been raining.  The grass was wet.  I could hear water dripping off of the trees.  Boomer and Rusty were sniffing in the back yard.  They didn't bark, but the dog next door did.

My house is located in front of another street.  From my curb there are three ways to go.  Right.  Left.  Straight ahead.

Four ways to go.
Back inside.

It has been raining.  There is a fog.  The temperature is neutral.  Not hot, not cold.  Somewhere in the neighborhood a radio is playing.  Its not loud.

I think, for a moment, about picking a direction and walking.  Just walking.  But I'm wearing flip-flops and I don't have anywhere to go.

Back inside.

I've been thinking about art journaling again.  I've been thinking about clearing out some of my old books.  Tossing them.

I have journals full of bitterness and bile.

I've been looking at art journals on pinterest.  On tumblr.  They are so beautiful.

I know that people will tell me my art is beautiful.  I am the artist.  I will never see it as beauty.

There is one blog I follow(ed) where she did an art journal collage every single morning.  I've been thinking about doing that.

I've been thinking about doing a lot of things.
I've not been doing much of anything.

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