Experiment is grey. I feel an irresistible force to get ‘clean’, to ‘take a vacation’.
It feels, 11 days in, that there is enough mess, enough work, enough experiment.
Now it’s the time to understand the impulse to sweep my ‘Welcome’ mat; time to understand relationships between discrete phenomena, such as a North Atlantic coastline and an untimely, painful malaise; time to paint ‘miniatures’; time to be decadent; time stop being concerned about my not caring—to attain a higher-order not caring: not caring about not caring.
The rain. The room
Vision. Lust non-lust.
Paradise. Class. Basement
I paint a small jelly to bring me comfort. It does.
I can make these all flowers.
I can hear still external thoughts, likes and dislikes…
Boooooooo! It’s raining today.