The Losers

I hate the drive back from the Charlotte airport. Well, first of all, I hate the Charlotte airport. Mean cops on Segways = wack and stupid looking. But the drive also really pisses me off. So necessary and yet, so boring.

Brian picked me up from the airport this most recent trip, when I returned from the Thanksgiving holiday (this is a belated post). The silhouettes of the mostly bare trees against the colors in the post-sunset sky were soft and beautiful and I started taking pictures rapid-fire all the way home.

I have since compiled the best, and most abstract, of those pictures into what I hope is a slideshow both dreamy and hypnotic, to be projected at the final show in a manner than I won’t disclose until then (I have to keep some stuff a surprise, or why would you show up, right?). I also won’t show you any of those pictures now, but I will share some of the pictures from the same roll that didn’t make the cut, either for being too suggestive of concrete things, or for breaking up the rhythm of the slideshow in other aesthetic ways.

The other big loser, of course, is me, for not being the responsible blogger that you have come to know and (?) love.

Alice once told a friend of hers that I both wrote and painted. Her friend, a writer, and one who takes writing pretty seriously, told her that I couldn’t possibly do both. I think that this is true. While I am still debating whether or not I can do them both at different times in the same life, I certainly cannot do them both well at the same time.

I am painting every day. I have not written even in my journal since I began this intense regimen. It gets harder for reasons I can’t explain. Half my brain shuts off when I’m painting like this. I have no use for words. It’s no excuse, but I thought you should know.