(Verb here) me, Father, for I have Sinned.
It has been one day since my last blog.
I'm not Catholic or any other organized religion, but between watching Father Brown every night and struggling to get through my routine every morning, I'm starting to feel as if I've joined some semi-pro behavioral contest in which all the contestants are both OCD and paranoid and the Supreme Arbiter has announced that only one of the contestants is cursed with those personality traits. Therefore everyone is left struggling with both the weight of a flawed personality and the question of why they were chosen to be the fall guy.
Other than that, everything's good. Except I use too many commas and I'm chronically addicted to the word "just" and not in the way that means even-minded or equitable or even precisely or absolutely. I mean "just" in the way born-again Christians or Andy Griffith uses it. Which is to say, as a substitute for a real thought. Ding!
See already I'm piling up sins for my confession. This could take the place of blogging the way blogging has taken the place going to confession. Confession for the average Joe or Jane or TBA.
Ding! Another one.
So I'm getting a little xmas shopping done and washing some more towels and watching the house decay further while I get through my list. I have had enough of acrylic painting for the time being. The pain dries so quickly on the palette that you constantly have to mix the color again.
Today I am a (chosen gender)! Ding! I will use oil paints to make a picture. Let's see what I blame next for my inability to paint a decent picture. Let's just see.
I've been gathering information about the ritual cleaning of the brushes and equipment after painting with oils. I've found a site that recommends the ancient and secret mixture of Wild Root Hair Tonic, Altoids and 2-day old urine. Luckily I've been saving my urine since Trump took office so I'm in business, big time.
I also had a vision during my morning's meditation of a tall seaside cliff made of American Cheese and topped with Baker's Coconut Frosting leading to a chasm of dreams which, after writing it down here, doesn't sound like such a great thing to paint after all. Maybe I'll go with some flowers or something.
They say oil paints can take a few days to dry fully. So I see switching to that medium as also signalling a life-affirming belief in a personal future. (Not sure here, but that's probably another Ding.)
As long as I write here, I have an excuse for not starting the process of baring my inner soul (as opposed to my outer one, I guess) and so I should close for now and Begin the Beguine (Cole Porter's words, not mine).
Bye, Bye, and Buy Bonds!
More later,
I'm not Catholic or any other organized religion, but between watching Father Brown every night and struggling to get through my routine every morning, I'm starting to feel as if I've joined some semi-pro behavioral contest in which all the contestants are both OCD and paranoid and the Supreme Arbiter has announced that only one of the contestants is cursed with those personality traits. Therefore everyone is left struggling with both the weight of a flawed personality and the question of why they were chosen to be the fall guy.
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| Ask this guy what religion is. |
See already I'm piling up sins for my confession. This could take the place of blogging the way blogging has taken the place going to confession. Confession for the average Joe or Jane or TBA.
Ding! Another one.
So I'm getting a little xmas shopping done and washing some more towels and watching the house decay further while I get through my list. I have had enough of acrylic painting for the time being. The pain dries so quickly on the palette that you constantly have to mix the color again.
Today I am a (chosen gender)! Ding! I will use oil paints to make a picture. Let's see what I blame next for my inability to paint a decent picture. Let's just see.
I've been gathering information about the ritual cleaning of the brushes and equipment after painting with oils. I've found a site that recommends the ancient and secret mixture of Wild Root Hair Tonic, Altoids and 2-day old urine. Luckily I've been saving my urine since Trump took office so I'm in business, big time.
I also had a vision during my morning's meditation of a tall seaside cliff made of American Cheese and topped with Baker's Coconut Frosting leading to a chasm of dreams which, after writing it down here, doesn't sound like such a great thing to paint after all. Maybe I'll go with some flowers or something.
They say oil paints can take a few days to dry fully. So I see switching to that medium as also signalling a life-affirming belief in a personal future. (Not sure here, but that's probably another Ding.)
As long as I write here, I have an excuse for not starting the process of baring my inner soul (as opposed to my outer one, I guess) and so I should close for now and Begin the Beguine (Cole Porter's words, not mine).
Bye, Bye, and Buy Bonds!
More later,
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