I don’t like the sun.
I don’t like the heat.
People that go to the beach confuse me. It’s sadistic. Glaring sun, abrasive sand, and those people that sit right next to you when there’s miles of open beach. (what’s with that?)
I know there are worse things in the world. Things more worthy of complaining about. An oil well gushing black death into the ocean perhaps. We put things like this into the back of our minds, pretend it’s not happening. (but it is)
and yet I still complain about the heat.
I did the same painting twice this week, and they both just didn’t come together in the end. My brain has just been off, and I blame the sun.
Well, it’s Friday and I seem to have gotten my mojo back. I put that painting aside, opened my sketchbook, and found my inspiration at the other end of the couch.

My plan for this weekend is to stay in and suck the cold air from the ac through a straw. Inbetween the puffs of freon I’ll attend to attempt number three.
ah, friday….

About pattkelley

steerage on the Titanic.
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2 Responses to Heatwave

  1. Rwa323 says:

    It’s not what’s at the other end of the couch… it’s the actual other end of the couch. It’s magic. Unfortunately the side effects of sitting on magic include extreme laziness, a Lady GaGa obsession and consuming massive amounts Nutella several times a day. Worth it for inspiring brilliant brain waves of creativity? I think so.

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