Things were put on hold. The Twizzy, my thoughts, my writing. I canceled plans I’d had with people. I dodged calls and a few texts.
I thought maybe I’ll paint. Painting used to be my special time to think. I used my landscapes as a way of transporting me years ago. Would it still work, I thought. I dabbled, I mixed, I spilled linseed oil all over the carpet, and dropped a brush with lilac oil paint down my white pants. Good thing that apron was so short… But did it work? Did I forget all the bullshit and the exhaustion? Did my jaw finally unclench? Did my desire to line up everyone who’s pissed me off in the last 6 years and crotch-punch them lessen?
Fine, a very little, but I’ll take it.
Painting, much like writing, takes me away. I become so immersed, it’s like a mini-holiday. The trouble, with any holiday however, is coming back. The unpacking (this time mentally) of the baggage. Laying it all out in plain sight and deciding what needs to be done with each pile. I’ve decided I’d seriously like to fuck up some of the piles, just because I can. Most I’ll deal with in my own time. One has been helped along by friends. That’s the thing with baggage – you think you’re the only one who carries yours but you’ve brought friends along who, when they see it get too heavy for you, step in and offer a hand. Oh, sure, they’re not sporting kilts and carrying 2 bags at a time like the hot clerk in the hotel in Scotland was, but they’ve got ideas and advice and they’re pretty fucking cool.
My painting isn’t done – but it’s coming along. It sits in my college boy’s empty bedroom, admonishing me as I walk past. It’s kind of a bossy canvas but I love it.
As for The Twizzy, I’ll get back to it on Monday. I know Donna and Mill are eager to win more games.
And now I’m off to workout because: (1) today is my youngest boy’s 15th birthday and I will be eating cake (2) Game 1 of the ALDS is tonight and I’ll nervously be stuffing my face throughout. Go Yankees!
Have a great weekend everyone. Write, paint, read.