Octember

102723

Just wandering these days. Someone said I have no goals, no ambitions. Not true, I try to sleep through the night, sometimes do. Another painting class, a couple of gigs, a couple of open mics. It’s comfortable, not a challenge. I am drawing most every day, but it isn’t resolving into much I can photograph. Hands, feet, basic forms and shading, crows, yes. Enjoying the used sketchbooks I have gleaned from various thrift stores, scrappy and stained with resolutions from new years long past.

Life has been very hard since I came home, and I can’t seem to kick myself out of the painful past. I never mention the struggle I went through, but it almost obliterated me. I write too much, then read it, trying to make sense of it, regurgitating the same meal over and over. It’s not pretty. The Artist’s Way recommends one write three pages every morning, and I returned to that practice while I was on the road. I am beginning to get a flow going, but often drivel, what I did yesterday, what i’ll do tomorrow.

Lots of creative interludes, though, rewiring a chandelier, sorting photographs, more clever repairs with Sugru. I’m longing to get back on the road. One thing I don’t have is a level, private place to park the van. I truly miss my old life in many ways, but nevermind. There are pleasures here. Indoor plumbing. . steak and applesauce. Coffee with whipping cream.

The sound of an owl in the redwood tree some nights. Five crows frantically harassing a big hawk that landed there. Monarchs searching for the milkweed that I planted but have yet to sprout. I brought home bags of free compost and filled the scrap wood planter bed. Maybe I’ll have carrots next year.