Went to the Boy Scouts clean-up at the landfill today when I could have been doing a million other things. Oh well, such is life. The paintings aren't selling at Constant Creations, through no fault of anyone.
There is no blame. Now my knees, back and butt hurt from bending down to pick up trash, piles and piles of trash, plastic bags, papers, styrofoam, cardboard, a dead red-tailed hawk, x-rays, which I kept, a dead skunk's bones, which I kept, and will become an art project of some sort.
I guess this is all avoidance, as I don't want to clean my studio and I'm listening to a singer from Seattle named Flora McGill I found on myspace.com. Very, very good. Nice, clean lovely voice. Beautiful voice. Nice music. I was looking for something a little fresh-- I was getting tired of the same old 'sensual world' that I usually listen to.
Getting ready to do some painting, trying to fight tiredness, which is boring, and going to do some painting.
Bags and bags of garbage will infiltrate my dreams tonight. Huge stinking bags of garbage. AT least it's a lot better now, if we don't have another 'event', which is government-speak for windstorm! Landfill, but I call it a dump.
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