Lord Howe Island IV

Last night someone’s car went off like six times in the night and it took them about forever each time to realize it to come all the way clomp sleepily downstairs to turn it off. Clomp clomp, try, argh, they would say, clomp clomp, try — come on down the frickin stairs like you did last time and turn the frickin thing OFFFFFF. I could hear men cursing from other bedrooms at them as well.

Woke up quite grumpy I must say. This, despite delicious whole grain blueberry waffles. That’s quite grumpy. Still quite edgy. Boy even won over Dress Up’s desire to wear a kicky or straight mini with the suede knee high birthday boots from my Mother-in-law. Over that. Need to be grounded, he said. Okay, she said, pouting. Ar, he said, pulling out the sienna/rust-colored corduroys and looking for quite some time and not finding the perfect charcoal Anthropologie (some consolation for Dress Up) shirt. Concession, a sixties nod, cream tuxedo shirt, BUT covered it all up with a toasty (un poquito militar) charcoal wool sweater and gray scarf, so no one would really KNOW. No added jewelry. The most treasured Frye harness clogs. Boy won, overall. Patient Chipper.

Getting ready this morning, listened to Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers until they were done then the Beck shuffle — time warp shift something whoa! almost made me dizzy there — what an honor to listen to alla that (!) we are blessed!

Walkies were perfectly frosty and chilled, with the bog a bit crispy and beautiful colors still, sunny and bright. No one out walking really, but plenty of cars zooming about, almost competing with each other, early morning errand runners I guess?

When we came home it was time for Jason to go run errands for us, groceries and medicines. When he returns I will put it all away, we will putz and rest about for a while then head out for the antique store — woo! I’m starting to calm down now that I’m writing this and that makes me happy, in a Buddhist/Zen way, maybe my alters are shifting ? and maybe I’ll paint a bit.

Afraid of even reading over what I wrote yesterday because it wired me up into the night so much. I can’t tell you why or I’ll give away the true story, I said about dissociation but not the triggers, eh? So, I’ll wait on that, ’til later in the day. I’m determined to write the damned thing. I know it’s tough, just have to muster through it and meditate/yoga my way into calmer territory I guess?

I’m liking the painting but wanting to torque it a bit here and there — that will come as I’m putting the layers and light in but I’m a bit frustrated with it — wanting to see the tension of the detail in the massive already — patience, dear one — heh —

Jason found out he has major holiday time off, so we have the goal of finishing the Chris Whitley Tribute Album then — yay — we are very close — fingers crossed — we only have Dust Radio to record with Dennis Nielsen live yet, and I have four or five ? vocals to record, more parts to flesh in, much mixing on Jason’s part — we shall see — what a dream to see that accomplished —

So excited to see the upcoming movie Goethe in Love, or Young Goethe in Love or Goethe!, however it may appear … put in on Netflix … I’ve always meant to read him and just never had the heart to go there for fear mine would break. He seems so beautiful from here. So maybe after seeing the movie I’ll be able to go there, into him, finally. It’s like Mozart. For fear I may break, out of sheer beauty, become overwhelmed, I’m meaning to collect him, and haven’t yet. I’m lucky to have any Vivaldi on the ITunes but can hardly bear to play it. Used to play The Four Seasons over and over (and over) to the annoyance of many freshman year, until thankfully I received a Walkman for Christmas. Remember those? It was something to hold on to when things had gone quite quite awry … quite dark, in my life … did Amadeus come out that year? 1982/83? or was it later?

Painted some good deal today, eh, though some good deal of headache as well, and oh well. A bit on edge again. It’s about 2:40 now so will rest to take that edge off again, I hope before scissors are around my head, because that makes me edgy as well. Triggers abound, although I love the lady who cuts my hair for years now. She does it perfectly each time!

Adding lines and a bit of that tension I was talking about, to the painting, as I went today. Could not wait. Veering a bit from the painting, but what can you do?

Thinking I’ll walk to the appointment, because I can, and because it will do me good. Weather is nice enough.

About amyjacksoncc

I am a professional artist, writer and musician creating from my home studio. To view my artwork, visit http://www.amyjackson.cc
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