Open That Pea Coat and Show Me What Will Get You Arrested

Here I am: Reporting live from underneath a light bulb with my tongue slightly scalded by hot chocolate.  I've been painting most of the evening.  I'm not sure what all of this is about.  It's not my usual medium, but I'm going to go with it.

(I painted my first boob tonight.  Although I have drawn many a boob in the margins of note taking in high school and into college classes, I have never painted one.  It was not from a model or anything. My imagination. So of course it is a bit unrealistic.  I don't care.  It's my first boob. It's pretty hot in that "oh this is art, I'm not suppose to say that" type way. HOT.)

Moving on.

I've been feeling pretty internal as of late.  Focusing in on art and psychic shit.  Sure, at this rate I'll end up living in the street and talking to myself but I'm fine with that. I feel like this is the month that I should be "setting goals" and things of that nature but, frankly, I'm content with watering my plants, fucking who I want, and getting way the fuck too into Jean Genet's sailor shit again.

(Pause to take in the photo, above.  Genet's sailor shit, again.)

In addition, I've been watching way too much ¿Quién mató a Patricia Soler? I can't help it. I justify it as language study (it IS!) and end up getting way too wrapped up in the plot.  I mean, can you imagine not being able to tell your children that they are your children because you've been in prison for 16 years for a murder you didn't commit? It's all totally relatable.

Okay. That's all for today.  I'm a bit obsessed with paint and with grape flavored gum.

Obviously I need to exorcise these demons out of me.

Be well; Be loved,


k.


(photo credit: I can't recall. I swiped it from Tumblr. I'm usually so good about this.  I was distracted by the hot faggots.)