…has happened. No rain and yet very little sun. The few individuals walking the streets are all wearing hats, an odd thing. There’s a new trend here that is clear at work. It feels sinister; it feels odd.

At night an odd sound rushes through my house–the sound of wind whipping around a corner. I’ve grown used to it and have learned to sleep quite well. It’ white noise, that’s it.

This morning my computer was broke and I had to paint something, because what else is there to do except watch the bland landscape, and all those hats. Jesus, when did that get to be a trend. I feel both alienated and comfortable–but these images, these hatted men and women, I can’t get out of my head.

I pick up my brush and what do I paint….?

You are driving down a busy urban 4 lane road, strip mall after strip mall. You see a supposed trailer park, just off a this road, behing a KFC. It’s set way back from the main road and a small sign says R & R mobile living. You turn in. It’s curious, this trailer park still left while all around it Wendys, Arbys, and Walmarts sprout like weeds. The road back to the custom homes is winding and it is farther in than you thought.

That explains why the homes are hard to see from the main road.

You suddenly make your last turn and rather than see the expected slovenly trailer park, with lots of old Fords and Chevys parked everywhere and a general sense of blight, poor people living as best they can under the circumstances–rather than see this you see that a few trailers have screened the view of several magestic houses, unconventionally built, all ultra modern.

You are right at a point where you can take a u-turn and leave (because there is something spooky about this place; no visible people or cars).

Do you take the U-turn?

When you realize you are one the verge

..usually I am full of ideas–ideas for businesses, ventures, etc. And most of them are built around my love of painting and music. Today is not one of those days. Something is out of whack, not what it should be: that’s probably what is called mild depression, which will pass in a few hours. In the meantime, I’m trying to visualize depression (so I can paint it).

I can’t.

Anyone who reads this want to try and give me a little nudge? Can you describe what depression looks like?

…isn’t that the punch line of a Richard Pryor quote, or a sort of punch line. Caught in a room naked with another woman by his wife, he says: “you gon believe me or believe your lyin’ eyes”?

Or put another way: they can play tricks on you. I had painted, I thought, a series of diagonal steel bars, with a sort of harsh look, called Incarceration. It was a little heavy handed, but so what? Anyway, a friend was over a few weeks ago and said, to this effect: “I like that painting, like the way you captured the falling rain.”

Well, his eyes werent really lying: just seeing an object in a way not intended. And I know that that’s a good thing.

No one who can’t play the harp is likely to sit by one and start (trying) to play. I mean, you just wouldn’t. You don’t have the training. Now, if I can’t draw a tree or an orange, that in no way causes me to think I can’t paint. Not draw but paint. Not illustrate, but throw paint on a canvas like Pollock or Rothko or Jasper Johns.

It’s abstract and it’s expressionist. Of course I can do it.

That is of course until I actually go out and buy the canvas and the acrylic paint (oil: too much trouble) and get to work. Well that is what I did and what I did, for the first time, six years ago was a mess.

So here’s the story about going who didn’t know how to paint to, at least, someone who can (sometime) express himself in oil and acryllic paint.

Coming next: the big idea?

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