Sunday, July 21, 2013
Living life to the fullest while reclining. Neglecting all sorts of responsibilities. Artistic projects go sailing unrealized through my grasp. I tend to dance around those little helium balloons and tug at their strings. a constant struggle to bring them within reach until they start to sag and sink and become manageable. I dip them into clay slip and fire them to a thin and brittle shell. A skeleton of what they were and a shadow of what they could be. Finished art seems a shell. I like it with strings unknotted and sails whipping out of control. Today goes blazing by and I lay tired and uninclined to do anything. Today goes blazing by and I go blazing through it on my couch chariot. My psychic bobsled.