Image 52 - Week 3... Simon Cowell and the distraction of Reality TV..

Image 52 - Week 3.  Striped Shirts..

The whole ageism deal.. . and

what does a word actually mean.?

What does a word really., truly really mean..(?)

Solitude

 "The day, water, sun, moon, night - I do not have to purchase these things with money." (1)

ACT1

.. and when I think of a striped shirt I immediately have an image of the wearer ‘exuding’ a certain (not good) style; tailored, perhaps a little on the too tight side, starched and trying to make an obvious statement for any 'potential observers' of being hip, cool and trendy but really resulting in a more Austin Powers type persona.... Jus' where does the thought of a striped shirt come into all this..? Well, they frustrate me, irritate me.. and geez, I’m angry.. AND they make me think of age and middle age..; so now we have striped shirts, age and anger.. and I'm getting carried away with punctuation  too and going totally over the top with it..

I’ve had to wait a whole #@*kin' week before attacking this blog, although I’m sure I could have ‘stored’ something clean, upbeat and 'phoney', but here  I am hustling, while full of anger.; who’d a thunk it.. and then in the middle of it all, we had black Monday.. Now,  that was a Monday that definitely came to bite me in the ‘asp’.., but what is/was 'Black Monday'.. and who cares.!

Yep., this week provided me with a blip that overshadowed what SHould have been a fun introductory moment with a new colleague on a FAB new venture and a ‘thoroughly looked forward to' third blog; But., but something happened to my ‘voice’ and the words I used this week. Bad, bad.; the something wasn’t good at all and it's continuing to this point.., which means this contribution may well reflect that experience as I come to terms with it while also publicly admitting to a huge failing and perhaps attempted sabotage.? I need to work on that as I'm not too sure yet, but think it's a success kinda deal issue gig thingy..

A battle of light and dark. -  good verses evil

The search for an inspiring image will be an interesting one for a different reason this time out.. Okay, so I had an angry day, in fact let’s be honest, an angry ‘week’, which is, I quickly want to add, kinda rare, but it came out. I've taken photos all week and they're all dark, yet I haven’t found out how I can best document frustration or anger, but will do what I can to leave an image of a week that indicated best, my mood change. Storm clouds and sense of darkness perhaps (?). Hey, by the time I’ve finished this, I may be able to find something that’s positively changed da ole mood for the better.; it’s definitely my writing that can usually ‘go to this place’, unlike the pics I seem to gravitate to which seem to be ones that offer up an erm., more pleasing moment..  , for me..

Do you really wanna know (?); well this occasion was one when I verbally jumped on a couple of valued and much respected friends, leaving them open mouthed, totally undeserving of the rant and me, ashamed and drained..; strange where this comes from to me..; it all seems so petty now which leaves me feeling quite rightly., ‘ugly’.., yet here I am., now., having to think of my written words, when usually, they just spew out.. and with that, this will be a week to look back on when the end of the year comes round and I read it back..; you can shred a laptop, can't you..?

ACT 2
 

How does submitting Gil Scott Heron into my on-line radio station bring up Ripple and !!! the Beat Goes On..? Can’t live without this effing technology now, but I can tell ya, it’s sometimes really ‘frustrating’..; ahh, ‘call waiting’ isn’t on my favourites list either.. and why do we need to keep checking our cell phones when we know there isn’t a call, text or message.. Must be ‘that’ socially intrusive media site we’re addicted to.. It's an actual conversation I need.

More dark clouds., but with a twist..

“and so castles made of sand fall in the sea, eventually”

(2)

Hmm., now I can see where my blogs go.; they go where my mind goes.. I write, get distracted, go off on a tangent and write some more and none of it makes any sense other than that’s how ‘the’ mind goes.(?), or more precisely, how my mind goes.. 

Contradictions, contrasts, confusion and questions.., but still lots of dark clouds.. however., I'm., I'm.., yep I'm...

 ACT 3

Yep., I’m getting a focus... Are you kidding me, there's no focus here...; I’m thinking ‘slippers’.. Slippers have taken me to a place of emotional comfort.. Without them, you’re usually ‘outdoors, or on a strange ‘floor’.. Slippers bring it all back, so I’m thinking ‘slippers..; now where are my slippers.?

I’m weird and fully expecting a knock on the door from a group of white coats with a handful of belts any second now..

“Know what's weird? Day by day, nothing seems to change. 

But pretty soon, everything's different.”

(3)

Perhaps some calm after the storm

Ahh., slippers..; yep,  I could have left them at the Mansion,  in the Grotto (sigh) maybe, the compound or on the yacht with Buzz,; possibly the red carpet hidden amongst all the cameras and stars that are seen during Sunday daylight hours,  the many  Green Rooms I've been privileged to wander., maybe onstage somewhere behind the giant shiny statue., perhaps in Vegas, on PCH or the island, beach or ferry, but all I know is that they're not here.. Perhaps this is why I'm angry..; I've left my slippers on the other side of the world and I'm here with my bare feet.., exposed and feeling the chill and every stone I walk on..

Ahh, the  final calming image of the stones is bringing a sense of peace  and resolution to my tired, combative mind..; maybe I've turned a corner thanks to a couple of wet rocks, 'Harry', a shared table and a pair of gifted art ears.. That's it..; art., art, paint, texture... and finally a smile..

Had to stop, look.. and see the light..; the sign is there for all to see

The light shines on what it's supposed to and  I'm  now reminded that it's there., in the right place..; I've just got to open my eyes after the storm.. ; there's a rainbow, I've heard, which means there's 'gonna' be a pot of gold that needs finding..

 ACT 4 

 Writing a blog, public as it is, is worse than talking to yourself isn't it..? I'm laying gazing at the ceiling while my keyboard answers my mind with this rambling drivel.. Yep, white coats, belts .. and I can hear them coming.., but not before I share some 'white' paint, some texture and the sense of being alive..;

... ready to create again..

 alive with the memory of a moment of where my slippers are.., the memory of texture and blank walls.. I have another blank canvas here to attack and all it needs is for me to start throwing some paint on it to give it life..

No bold typed message this week, just  a desire to paint again..; there's an unqualified artist (of sorts) in the house ready to leave a FAB new signature for all to see.. Let's do this damn thing..

But., can I sleep first..?

1 Plautus- 2 Jimi Hendrix - 3 Bill Watterson