On 21 October 2012 03:29, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:
>>>>
Chris(tine) just called by and we had a long chat about art and film and the
draconian pitfalls of the cyber world and powder to the people and local gossip
and human idiotsyncrasies and ubiquitous foibles and two rounds of tea.
And Chris said "oh!" when she saw my work in progress, regarding my meticulousness of nuances. I'll complete the brown stage tomorrow and probably post it so it's not lost to posterity and maybe get a print of it. And to share my current methodical procedure with humans on Earth. The tracing looks good too.
Moo requires photos so will have to do a self discipline job on myself, slow to start and slow to stop. Taureans are supposed to be like generators but how dare i tell myself what to do. Just another 'meme', a 'me-me'. Who am i to define myself as finite?
I had brussels sprouts for dinner from the garden and had to check the dictionary to say so, but they were lovely, and i like them better than cabbage and most other greens actually and they are very prolific, and their leaves form a canopy to protect the sprouts from fallout and air-crap.
But there's a clean breezy freshness to the night, pinhead stars playing hide and seek among swift sailing soft clouds from the south. I finally solved my notoriously stiff front door handle by a generous spray of WD40 at the top and let gravity do the rest. A simple solution. Works fine.
Oh, and, an alternative word for wildfire? How about, 'this could really catch on.'
And while i think of it, the article beginning with "How"... "and the answer was.. " . . .?
What i thought would be appropriate :
"Wash'te, pelamayah", Lakota for 'Good, thankyou.'
(So if anybody ever asks "how?"........)
I mention 'RNA Drops'. One can google that. And there's new technology coming in that can restore missing or malfunctioning limbs and organs, soon as the Earthlings wrest back control from the controllers. And i sense or glean or discern something imminent that's for the good.
Today has been a leisurely late start day of pleasant silence, but for a fluttering flame in the grate and the odd distant dog bark, all ambient and informally poetic with but one play of my piano CD while i sat at the table applying simple but precise brown brushstrokes with a fine brush to the portrait. Otherwise, the silence was so palpable i could almost hear it.
Silence is so delicious. Not for me a radio chatterbox full of insincere fake news and obsolete muzak. Whereas, my own CD [see player in side bar and tracing ten summers -ed] honours the silence within it. I threw my radio in the bin long ago.
Wonder if moo is back from town now, after three a.m. Recounting latest sagas, delving into deep discernment of the ways of the world out there while the friendly kettle boils. What a nice thing, to sit around a family table in the night and drink tea. So timelessly universal and human, no radio, no television. Who needs an Archon in the corner?
But, here i am musing away on a smokesignal typewriter. But as far as possible i treat it like a pen and paper. Except, paper, you screw it up if it doesn't work, whereas a computer does that for you. Screws up automatically.
That's progress.
Think i'll send this now, into the night where there is still awake-fullness.
Pleasant dreams.
Rainbowmaker.
And Chris said "oh!" when she saw my work in progress, regarding my meticulousness of nuances. I'll complete the brown stage tomorrow and probably post it so it's not lost to posterity and maybe get a print of it. And to share my current methodical procedure with humans on Earth. The tracing looks good too.
Moo requires photos so will have to do a self discipline job on myself, slow to start and slow to stop. Taureans are supposed to be like generators but how dare i tell myself what to do. Just another 'meme', a 'me-me'. Who am i to define myself as finite?
I had brussels sprouts for dinner from the garden and had to check the dictionary to say so, but they were lovely, and i like them better than cabbage and most other greens actually and they are very prolific, and their leaves form a canopy to protect the sprouts from fallout and air-crap.
But there's a clean breezy freshness to the night, pinhead stars playing hide and seek among swift sailing soft clouds from the south. I finally solved my notoriously stiff front door handle by a generous spray of WD40 at the top and let gravity do the rest. A simple solution. Works fine.
Oh, and, an alternative word for wildfire? How about, 'this could really catch on.'
And while i think of it, the article beginning with "How"... "and the answer was.. " . . .?
What i thought would be appropriate :
"Wash'te, pelamayah", Lakota for 'Good, thankyou.'
(So if anybody ever asks "how?"........)
I mention 'RNA Drops'. One can google that. And there's new technology coming in that can restore missing or malfunctioning limbs and organs, soon as the Earthlings wrest back control from the controllers. And i sense or glean or discern something imminent that's for the good.
Today has been a leisurely late start day of pleasant silence, but for a fluttering flame in the grate and the odd distant dog bark, all ambient and informally poetic with but one play of my piano CD while i sat at the table applying simple but precise brown brushstrokes with a fine brush to the portrait. Otherwise, the silence was so palpable i could almost hear it.
Silence is so delicious. Not for me a radio chatterbox full of insincere fake news and obsolete muzak. Whereas, my own CD [see player in side bar and tracing ten summers -ed] honours the silence within it. I threw my radio in the bin long ago.
Wonder if moo is back from town now, after three a.m. Recounting latest sagas, delving into deep discernment of the ways of the world out there while the friendly kettle boils. What a nice thing, to sit around a family table in the night and drink tea. So timelessly universal and human, no radio, no television. Who needs an Archon in the corner?
But, here i am musing away on a smokesignal typewriter. But as far as possible i treat it like a pen and paper. Except, paper, you screw it up if it doesn't work, whereas a computer does that for you. Screws up automatically.
That's progress.
Think i'll send this now, into the night where there is still awake-fullness.
Pleasant dreams.
Rainbowmaker.
art : tales of the sea - in process - raw umber phase, martin law, October 2012
No comments:
Post a Comment
Hello, Here is your letter box! Post away. . .