"Life isn't fair. Anyone who tells you otherwise is selling something."
I learned that when I was eight years old, reading The Princess Bride. Hit me in the face with it one more time, universe, why don't you. Stop making me bitter before my time. Let me feel something good.
Did some splatter painting yesterday, as part of the decor for my apartment (home in CT covering pegboard with color to make some storage in my teeny space), and I understand now why Pollock painted the way he did, or any violent abstract artist does what they do. It's fun to fling and twist and throw and let your anger or joy fly out of you with the motions you make. It's a release. It's almost a more pure representation of emotion, because the brain can't get in the way by trying to make it something else than what it is.
I have to check on it, see how it dried, and then decide if it needs more color. It might. I want lots of color. Today will be an artsy day. A crafty day. I want to make things. I want to paint my face. I want to vomit my feelings where others have to see them, have to feel them, have to wonder what makes that kind of thing happen.
I understand why he has to leave. It just sucks. Again, Harley? Again. You were drunk, but not that drunk. You heard him.
Seeing my photog darling Karen Schlink this afternoon, hopefully. :) Some shutter speed smiles for me will be nice.
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