sab

yesterday. Duende. Blue bunny. shower. Mmm. Blood on my fingertips. Cave men (I'm reading the new Jean Auel book, heh) learning about the Goddess' Gift of Pleasure. Inventing the bow and arrow, the sewing needle, door hinges. Inventing and reinventing and discovering new things. And yesterday was Saturday and before that it was Friday and I had oysters. And it was like a weekend, like people have. and then a thousand times better and a thousand times new.

A&M are playing Lizzie's song in the next room.

I woke up at 3:00 this afternoon. Longest I've slept in ages and miles. 500 kilometers, from Nice to somewhere outside Paris.

I'm going to my parents' house tonight. barbecue. red meat and corn. Get to hug my dad, who I haven't seen in too long. Who sometimes really comes through.

Next week's a normal work week, which is to say, I can't call in sick anymore, gotta slog like a grunt but I get to see G on Wednesday.

I wasn't meant for a day job. slept till 3 today and I feel like myself, woke up to A&M and coffee and a rice omelet and the cats bounding around and I said, "it's Sunday, right?" because I was sure I'd missed something. You work every day, you get that feeling undeserved, because responsibilities are on someone else's timetable and fucking up is what used to be commonplace.

So, up to the 'rents house and back home tonight, with steak and corn for A&M. And tomorrow, as I like to say, is another working day.

Point being: it's impossible for me to be an artist, to have emotion, and to hold down a job at the same time. When all I want is another weekend like this. And all I want is to paint, and create, and write.

Soon, we gotta hope, an alternative will rear its antlers.