…but it couldn’t be helped. I had arrived at an impasse with a painting, and the only options were to either start over, or leave her unfinished forever. So I overhauled the half-finished painting today…meaning I put it under a tap, squirted dishwashing liquid onto it, and scrubbed most of the paint off with a Scotch Brite scouring pad.
Then pretty much started the painting over. Heart was not in it, but there’s no time to quibble now. Damn, I don’t know what would be worse…a show with some paintings that were heartlessly churned out, or a show with only 4 paintings, all painted from the heart? Ack.
Yet another back-alley coat-hanger abortion…cleaned off, dressed in bright colors and bundled off to attend the birthday party. Hope no one notices… *pfft!*
Work tomorrow. My Mondays-only day-job. Even these measly 8 hours a week, I resent having to lay my brush down and shovel salads, instead. I resent being subjected to the mindless yammer of local radio stations and indifferently selected pop music. But I have been eating spaghetti, with nothing but salt, olive oil and fresh basil, for 4 days in a row, lunch and dinner, so yes, maybe it’s time to earn just a little bit of money, and buy something else to eat.
I should learn to fish…I live on a boat, after all. That would take care of both me, and the cat. Faced with meager rations, you know I’m more worried about the cat being displeased? He’s that sort of cat.