If I gave up art

I could
* spend more time with my friends and family
* save money
* read more books
* learn (a) language/s
* be more interested in my job, which is not uninteresting, and do it better
* take up a proper exercise program
* cook more and hence eat better
* take up sewing, crochet, carpentry, or any other skill or craft
* be at peace


It's a theory, anyway.

Lazy and bad

Places I'd like to do residencies in.

* Libraries
* Shops
* Warehouses
* Factories
* Attics
* Greenhouses
* Storerooms
* Anywhere well-lit

I need to learn some new skills. Meh meh and meh.

Back and hyperventilating

I'm back from my thingo. I didn't *really* get that much work done but everyone likes to tell me that it will all absorb itself and make sense later. I don't know about that. I think getting work done is getting work done, and not getting work done is not getting it done.

Actually I don't know that I really think that.

So anyway. I feel overwhelmed by the big city and all the work that has piled up in my absence and the money I didn't earn while I was away and all that jazz.

This is the house I stayed in and part of its garden. Well, really, this is a picture of part of the house that I stayed in and a picture of part of its garden.

*sigh*

It should be this easy

You know, just pay your 5S, read your magazine, and get on with your octagonal painting.



*NB: 'S' denotes hours of sweat (quantity in tonnes).

"you're crazy"

I am going through a really trashy stage. It's all about boozing it up. Yay, booze.

Today I got a phone call from my fresh ex. We don't talk so much any more. He asked me what I was doing, I'm all 'working, of course' (I was at work). We chatted for about 40 seconds. Then he went 'I've just done this really strange thing - I meant to call the other **** and I've called you instead [how embarassment!]. I've just realised who I"m talking to. So ... how are you going, anyway? You going to that opening tonight [blah blah blah]'

Needless to say, we didn't then have a lovely chat about life etc. I got the hell off the phone asap and felt depressed the rest of the day. Call me crazy, but I find the blase-ness really upsetting. I don't see the benefit of pretending everything's nice and neat and happy when it's actually ugly, traumatic and miserable. Much better just not to speak.

Had a nice night, though. If a little desperate. I still have sore forearms from ice skating on Monday ... it's a very positive injury. I wear it like an invisible bruisey badge of niceness.

Good Clean Fun.

Hear that, reader? When in doubt, take to the ice. Wear two pairs of socks though. And good gloves.

And my moonwalk is hilARIOUS

God, what a great life!!!

Yeah-huh!!

*beat*

!

Beddibyes and Jimmyjams no I mean really

Does anyone have any statistics on what percentage of blogs are started by people going through breakups? Anecdotally, I'd say, like, at least some. (See how I'm asking questions to encourage involvement? It's all this psychology I've been studying).

And will this post finally push the In Happier Times photos down far enough ... out of my face, shiny happy people holding hands!