Sunday, Rainy Sunday

With it raining all day and Dave, I believe, at the Frye (he may have decided to visit Sam as well), I decided to select a diverse six pack of brews from around the world, and one of Full Sail's Wassail for good measure, at Ballard Market, so there would not be a lack of interesting things to drink around the house. Also, I broke out the paints for the first time in ages. Wondering if the malaise that was gripping me was due to pent up creative energy that just hadn't seen an outlet, I found a Modigliani etching and decided to take a page from Vincent and tried to turn it into a painting. I don't think it is complete yet, but things need to dry a bit before I can do more. There are some things about it that I want to contemplate prior to continuing on. For the sort of day it is, rainy, grey, and uninspiring, I have managed to get stuff done, like laundry and the start of this painting. Maybe the fact Dave was off to a museum inspired me to get motivated and do something. I don't know, maybe it was just that I have been too much of nothing since I returned, except this blog, of which I am as surprised as anyone that I have managed as many regular entries as I have. None of them are necessarily exhilarating, but the constant typing keeps the synapses open, even if they only come up with crap. Just like to be a painter, one has to paint, to be a writer one has to write, and to be an artist, on has to create. It is the act of doing which is the operative act in being anything, bodybuilder or philatelist. Anyone can talk about doing things, but it is the act of doing that starts the process of becoming or maintaining the process of being. Lives of quiet desperation may be giving too much credit to how people live today, since I would think that some consciousness is required to lead a life of anything, quiet desperation or great joy and fulfillment. Too often the thinking requirement for living is replaced by auto-pilot. Oh well, I have gone over this territory before, if not on here, then surely in a journal or six, so I am going to wrap that line up.

Anyway, it is only 3 p.m., which leaves me more to do this afternoon, though my options have narrowed down to housework, surfing the web, or playing Guild Wars. I could pick up a book, but they are nearly as effective tools for procrastination as video games or internet enabled computers.