For the first time in months, I feel good. I feel great. I'm painting again. I'm writing poems and I'm singing and I'm playing my guitar and I'm going jogging every morning at 6 am. I haven't showered in days and it's awesome; I love being disgusting and covered in paint because strange men don't pester me when I walk around outside wearing only a bikini top and running shorts.
This morning, a young homeless guy asked me if I'd like to buy a poem for 50 cents. I told him I had no money on me (the truth). He gave me a poem anyway. It was a decent poem, short, written on a bit of scrap paper. I like that. I like him. Tomorrow I'll see if I can find him again and if I do I'll give him a whole jar of change.
This is good. You have less anger, it seems. That's a beautiful thing in itself. Post a painting, I'd like to see your work.
ReplyDeletewill do. as soon as I manage to finish one (I tend to start paintings and leave them unfinished for months)
ReplyDelete