This was December 30th, 2005.
Intentions aren't always what they seem.

In a daring attempt to catch the sun before it said goodnight, Natalie took this. I want to wake up to the sound of this for a while.

11 days left to go.

you didn't hear this from me, but...

creativity runs like paint drips from the brush.
it's too quick for me. yet too slow for my canvas.

I'm hearing impartial to the static gleaming and screaming.
Like the bright white of the page.
Like the story, that doesn't age.
It just sits there in all of its demeanor.
I hate when my canvas acts all presumptuous.

action painting passes time, I guess. Pollock had it good then.
I had to unlearn everything I knew as a child to fit what?
Oh.
Proportion, ration, scale, etc.