Sunday, June 13, 2010

Planter of another sort

This is a little blogging test piece, which just happens to continue the theme of yesterday's post, only this time it is result of drawing a plant in a planter instead of planting a plant in a planter.

It was a sunny wintery day that January 10th, 2007 sometime before or after lunchtime (I try to avoid going to any place at noon, too crowded) at CJ's Cafe in Bronte (please people, pronounced Bron tea NOT Bron ta-a-y). I was taking a break between clients - I sometimes just have to get out of the home office and go to where something is going on outside of inside of my head — when I got the urge to just draw something.

I hadn't drawn in a long, long while but did have my small, black, hard cover, sketch book with me and a crummy little ball point pen (the kind you get in packs of 30 or so). I really enjoy the tactile, kinaesthetic feeling of drawing; it gives me indescribable pleasure and I can get lost in it forever.

My favourite thing to draw is the nude figure, but, as it was unlikely that anyone would happen by and be inspired to strip off then and there, I had to make do with this plant that was sitting atop the counter near a mirror.

So, there I sat drawing to my heart's content, for just how long I don't know...

That was going to be all I was going to write but Rod and I are in the den. I'm writing this post and he's mucking about on Youtube, playing some Willie Nelson songs. He just said, "Oh, did you know that Willie Nelson died?"

Well, now I love Willie. We'd just seen him on TV just a few weeks ago on AUSTIN CITY LIMITS (?) and I'd recently read that he cut his hair because he has a problem with his rotator cuff and he found it too difficult to wash his waist length hair. Having once had hair below my butt, I can relate.

Anyway, distracted though I was, I'm a little taken aback to hear this. "Get out, really?"

And Rod says, "yup, he was playing on the road again."

That doesn't make any sense at all. I'm still partly focused on writing about the drawing and writing affects me much the same way drawing does, I get lost in it. Don't talk to me and don't ask me to engage you in conversation cus you'll get "ums and ahs" and nods if you want them. I'll agree with you, probably even make plans to do things, anything just to keep you satisfied and allow me to keep doing what I'm doing, but really it's like talking with a sleep walker and I probably won't look you in the eyes. So you really need to keep knockin'.


"He was playing on the road again...WILLIE DIED CUS HE WAS PLAYING ON THE ROAD AGAIN."


Stoopid Youtube.

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