comes for me. I can already feeling it washing me out of whatever I'm feeling in that moment; whichever side of the pond I may be on. It is not always welcomed, yet not always wished a dismissal.
Knock on my forehead and I'll let you in. I don't know how impressed you would be right now though. You can peek in through my eyes if your not comfortable with entering such a personal space yet. But it's my space, and I'm inviting you in. The posters, hung at a sloppy yet intentional angle, show what I currently have going on in my life. My own works are hung as well. The mismatched rugs are because I want comfort. I'm not concerned with image right now. My bed is usually made. I have a pillow or two, but I fall asleep without one, head on the mattress. My desk is organized; trinkets, books, soup cans and jars to hold my pins are the objects on my shelves. Anything educational is in my drawers, or my bag. My computer is organized and simple-for smooth operation and an intellectual bonus. I don't want to be the type consumed in my computer all the time. There is more out there and I realize I am not that interesting. Trash bin is running over. Mainly with crumpled papers and scraps from anything. Too easy to take out and dump, but for some reason I let it collect, then throw it out when I have no choice. My lava lamp is my source of light and warms inspiration. I have two instruments- a black acoustic guitar and bongos. I know how to play neither, but I adore them and I'm always trying. Notebooks and sketchbooks everywhere. A new pack of colored pencils almost too pretty to use, yet irresistible to the taste buds in my fingers. I don't have many clothes in my drawers. I keep them packed in a suitcase in my car. I never know where I want to go next, nor when.
I never write on the first page of a note/sketch book. Nothing is THAT great that it deserves to be seen the moment the cover is opened.
Clever twists of deliberately modest comments swarm the mind's eyes and ears a thousand times over and from so many angles that it creates a circle, reiterating what's been said. And I'm sick.
I had a dream last night that was so vivid I could recreate every second of it. Unfortunately, it is of absolutely no use. It figures that the dreams I could make use of
Knock on my forehead and I'll let you in. I don't know how impressed you would be right now though. You can peek in through my eyes if your not comfortable with entering such a personal space yet. But it's my space, and I'm inviting you in. The posters, hung at a sloppy yet intentional angle, show what I currently have going on in my life. My own works are hung as well. The mismatched rugs are because I want comfort. I'm not concerned with image right now. My bed is usually made. I have a pillow or two, but I fall asleep without one, head on the mattress. My desk is organized; trinkets, books, soup cans and jars to hold my pins are the objects on my shelves. Anything educational is in my drawers, or my bag. My computer is organized and simple-for smooth operation and an intellectual bonus. I don't want to be the type consumed in my computer all the time. There is more out there and I realize I am not that interesting. Trash bin is running over. Mainly with crumpled papers and scraps from anything. Too easy to take out and dump, but for some reason I let it collect, then throw it out when I have no choice. My lava lamp is my source of light and warms inspiration. I have two instruments- a black acoustic guitar and bongos. I know how to play neither, but I adore them and I'm always trying. Notebooks and sketchbooks everywhere. A new pack of colored pencils almost too pretty to use, yet irresistible to the taste buds in my fingers. I don't have many clothes in my drawers. I keep them packed in a suitcase in my car. I never know where I want to go next, nor when.
I never write on the first page of a note/sketch book. Nothing is THAT great that it deserves to be seen the moment the cover is opened.
Clever twists of deliberately modest comments swarm the mind's eyes and ears a thousand times over and from so many angles that it creates a circle, reiterating what's been said. And I'm sick.
I had a dream last night that was so vivid I could recreate every second of it. Unfortunately, it is of absolutely no use. It figures that the dreams I could make use of
