Again under the pier as the ponies slip into the waters Heading home. This week I wanted to do, would’ve Gladly done alone But found friends to come along. They also enjoyed The experience, enjoyed sharing it together in my home And with me .
One friend off in a boat, the other bikes The main roads with me to meet ponies. We reach water Wade in, stand under a pier deep in muddy water, Shaded with a good view, watch as the first pony Steps onto shore. Watch this other friend work, see differences, See on this week things mesh and some photos Collected are useful.
I haven’t been writing, haven’t felt the use of it. Why, what for, who cares for all who read this. Which is nobody. My two “best friends”, the meds seem to be doing What they are meant to do, and doing more Than I need With their help, my usual not so up self Has slipped down further, just one more thing To do alone. I haven’t written in awhile, why bother, Even I can’t stand listening to myself, why Would anyone else.
Two days fly by getting things I want to do done. Done between what really needs done and what Can slide now. Slide now, is a big thing in my life and I do not Like it. Must I work against what I know I want just To get there? Probably. How do I accommodate being alone? How? Per usual, one breath, one step, however Slow it is.
I enjoy a friend’s friend. Only, it shows The cracks in life. Yes I wish he was alone, too. He is not. I enjoy time with him but it is stolen From another and I hate that, as, I know that. I will enjoy this month, these times I would do With him or not, and then it will be time To say goodbye.
Left the dogs to be groomed, the cousin cooking And run a lot getting things done, finally go To the studio. Talk with folks, learn things its good. A friend’s friend comes , we discuss a project Coming up soon. Yet all is so outside me, the cousin and his life, The friend’s,whichhas no room really in his, and
Our friend left early, I spent the afternoon In the island studio with my cousin, It was fun. Went home to dine on food he had prepared And drank enough that he too felt the need To tell me What I should do. I am angry. Will box that with all the rest that guides little, yet Hurts a lot.
Early day spent with cousin, afternoon in the island studio Early afternoon, painted outside, then sold a painting, Left early evening Joined my guests for dinner and talking, A quiet night, a good night but somehow I Am loosing connection. Beyond where am I going, who am I becoming. I am afraid, once again, not much, and should I bother, why.
Spent these last three days rearranging my studio. My studio, the one at home, changing the it’s order A new way. Had almost all in good order by afternoon today Time to cook and relax while waiting for My cousin’s arrival I am happier with the studio now, not such a matter, I am just as happy as I can be these days which Isn’t so much.
The Studio at Line's End Farm is where I paint and try to find some joy again, and some equilibrium, not simple these days. One weblog records thoughts, ideas, methods and mixtures, palettes, observations, actually anything that intrigues me concerning my painting and working in the studio. Another observes only the horse in paintings that I find influential. The last are done for my sanity. All are my opinion only, open to other suggestions.
I will write in red, for my dear, love; who never saw red, not in ink, not in ire.
In 2010, the cold went beyond ten decades, was a century mark of hard winter through the mid-atlantic. For one small household banked by an Eastern Shore river this winter was epochal.
