Now, if oil paint was a man, I would be quite quite happy. It’s completely malleable, and non-permanent, except when it is left alone to form and dry. You can manipulate it, you can layer it up. It does not provide the intimacy and closeness that a hot body will provide, but it is so easy to get lost in the process. It’s like painting with watercolors that take forever to dry, and instead of becoming muddy or black, they retain their luster, their color, more appropriately. Mixing the colors is a bit more deliberate.

Now everyone knows I’m that self-deprecating kind of girl who sometimes craps on herself more than she treats herself. It’s true–I feel like I have endured a lot of bullshit. Now, it is only recently that karma has molested me back and left some shiny jewels on the doorstep, to possibly be cashed in at a later point. One is Paul, who has somehow managed to rile the possibilities up by always helping–this time he got me the transcription job, and pretty much is a shiny little ruby over on the left coast from me. He somehow has ended up being a better friend to me than some of my in my face friends, and for that I should be grateful. And I am.

So I was loving the process of painting. It took me a while to draw this out, but the painting took like less than an hour. It’s 16 inches by 20 inches or something like that. I have painted like maybe ten of these in my life (paintings that is) and I haven’t picked up a brush or done anything in art in like 6 months or so. I am excited over the potential progress that something like this implies–if I can do this now then I might be a really great painter in the future.

bla bla bla…

I really have to do my work now. I am a lefty, hence the smears all over the left side of it. It’s not done yet—more pictures when it is…