avad: (Default)
*Working on artwork- resin pour, hammering nails, painting.

*Riding my period moodswings. she's up! she's down! she's a killer! she loves the world!yep, it's every month. absurd.

*Working on writing a cover letter for a grant proposal application. Lots of staring and sighing, and finally a few words. ugh. this has GOT to get done, and soon. But an important chunk of progress has been made at least.

*Talking and singing to my fishy. I worry that there's crack in his foodpellets.It just doesn't seem right that he's this insanely 'peppy' all the time now. When he was on bloodworms he was just... chill. I mean, I like the fiestyness but I....worry that maybe he's just jonzin for a fix or something.

*spending some QT with my hunbun. Love him so. Long drives with him today...listening to the bollywood film Devdas soundtrack in the car and both of us singing along as best we could in our improvised 'Hindi'. No we have no idea what we're saying but damn it's fun making the sounds!. LOVE that soundtrack!!
Went to a Children's Museum and we were wowed by all the educational and interactive displays. My fave part was the sands from around the world wall display. I could look at that forever. I want one for my house!!
And Eliav, you would LOVE the building section......:)
avad: (Default)
Brushing on the glue, sprinkling on the sand.....thickening...building...
the skeletal structures of thought made manifest....mano/hand...late into night.
Early morning back in the studio..with the aid of music...dropping deeper into that realm. The realm that is as painful as it is intoxicating, full of wonder and loneliness. Here tears are pushed up out of my eyes...inexplicable feelings, intensity that I have no words for...so much felt/seen...and I do not know how to speak it. I have art.
I long for company in this realm, someone to come join me...but it is impossible. How can I open the door to THIS room. I would like to. But it is not the same room someone else would enter...yes, the spaces are superimposed...but I am 'here'...and if/when someone would enter the studio, I would go join them...pass over to the studio they see, I would leave this other realm. I would not know how to explain why I had been crying, or how the past, present and future had just swirled me up in a whirlwind in one space...compressed into each inch of my inward/outward gaze. I would not know how to explain how the sweater on the chair was mine and Darlene's and a grandmother's and a stranger's, a woman whose life I entered on a whim.

February 2017

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