Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Tanglewood Woes

It would seem that I am in a bit of a pickle. I picked up a drawing pencil for the first time in I don't know how long. Oh, yeah... well no, I guess I do know how long. I just won't admit to it. At any rate, the disturbing truth that made me put it down in the first place is still true. I have tremors.

I've noticed them getting worse as I sign checks and such. If I have to write more than a few lines I can't do so without my beautiful penmanship degrading into something illegibly geriatric. If I were 90 I could see my handwriting look like that. But I am only 40.

I believe that is part of what drives my style. Monet was successful in Impressionism because his eyesight blurred the crisp lines that mark Realsim. He painted what he saw. And if you think about that, he lived a difficult life. I used to draw long, crisp dark lines; now even the shortest line is, to put a nice turn on it... scalloped. Unfortunately, I need crisp lines. I am designing a tatoo with text. It needs to be crisp.

I have always known something was going to go. I think that is what I like best about rubber stamps. You can print anything no matter how your body betrays you. More precisely, betrays me at each turn it has thus far. But I don't really stamp anymore either.

Money and Body. It is a conspiracy to keep me a million miles from my goals. oh I know, Sweetie would tell me that I am the only thing stopping me. Still... I do not know how to overcome the most severe handicap that sits in front of me like an overstuffed Giant after a Lilliputian feast. And in some respects, one could hypothesize that this simply means that I am supposed to go through a different door. And that has worked so well. Anyone got some C-4?

I should be hip deep in the middle of NaNoWriMo. Hard to write "with a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes". And its hard to know if these things are obstacles or road signs. If it is a road sign then I am stuck at this fork. I don't want to go down the other path. It is a scarry place, dank and dark as any tanglewood and me sans machette or magestaff.

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