Sunday, October 28, 2007

I played tonight with some fingerpaints I've had on a bookshelf --for years.

I'm in awe of people who take empty canvas or blank paper and a little color and create worlds that hadn't been there previously. I don't have the first clue how they do it (even though I've taken classes.). I don't have that gift.

I notice the globules washing off my hands are the same blue of the pen inks sprinkled in my tshirt reflected back at me in the bathroom mirror. My artist ex-boyfriend told me once back when we were together --forever ago, that he found out he couldn't be a stockbroker because for the short time he was, he'd always get paint on his expensive suits and ties.

I know without looking, that every single ratty tshirt I own has pen ink hiccups on it. . .