Monday, June 11, 2007

Hibernate: I dream.

I wish that I was born a thousand years ago
I wish that I'd sailed the darkened seas
On a great big clipper ship
Going from this land here to that
I put on a sailor's suit and cap

Away from the big city
Where a man cannot be free
Of all the evils in this town
And of himself and those around
Oh, and I guess I just don't know
Oh, and I guess I just don't know


Take a look at a J.M.W.Turner.

Walk away.

Go pick up a paint brush, a canvas, let the emotions come, paint what you feel, mix colours, make the light dance with shadow dance with flair and imagination. Put your brush down. Fun isn't it? Creative and a great way to spend time, I mean, you just made something. YOU! YOU DONE IT! Fuck TV, you are officially a parent.

Now, go back and look at the Turner. Or a different one. Like this:

Do you see it now? Oh my god. My appreciation levels are ballooning, taking flight into a world I had previously nodded my head in recognition to, but never stepped toward.

Sometimes, it feels good, as a drug, to feel the rock n' roll of youth and cockiness and the misguided lust and sensuality of conceit. To lose yourself in the Iggy and Plant of the transient, to see it as passion, to see it as the flame, the punk and thrust of your will to live.

But wiser Saturn knows, humility is by far, the greater companion, the homecoming, the hearth, the deeper conversation, the twinkle in the toes and the oceans in your eyes.

I have fallen in love with painting, have rediscovered the songs that have slept silent in my heart, have walked the secret tracks beside my home and have slept among dreams of golden summers and warm embraces, and through the shivers and death of encroaching winter, found that a simple smile and happy thought holds more power than a thousand words, a thousand reasons, a thousand whys, a thousand wonders.

It's cheesy.

I don't care.

Your worse will return.

Maybe. I don't care.

Who gives a fuck.

No-one. I don't care.

You're no longer a part of it.

Oh me oh my, I certainly do not care.


  1. Does this mean I can now tease you about being arty for a change?

    ps glad you get it. Keep looking. It just gets better.