Writer, Artist, and Recovering 80s Hair Spray Addict
Staring at the canvas stripped to the bone white as gesso – thalo green I like to paint thick – running the brush up my thigh – Cold. Closing my eyes waiting for inspiration that doesn’t hit me like it used to I grab a tube of crimson and smear it over my chest and face as I follow my hands to my head and cry. What happened all these years to me? They are all but faint memories that appear in words pictures and paintings – I am afraid…
Read MoreSitting back relaxed Driving the wind tossing my hair 55 miles per hour smells of autumn leaves changing I feel these changes inside as I realize for once I am writing my story instead of watching it performed before my eyes. Movie plots run through my mind – what will they say of me when I am gone? Let me choose the actors – my leading man, my friends and enemies the drama and excitement – I will create my own chaos. The people I see day after day know…
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