I am not a fan of religious texts, no big surprise there. I am, however, a huge fan of mythology. Most of the subjects in my paintings have been renditions of myth or legend. This is the year of my rebirth, or something otherwise as destructive/creative/cathartic, and I am in the process of setting up a room in the house to rekindle my art... surviving has left me without many supplies or much time on my hands, but the drive to create burbles underneath the sea of responsibility unsquelched.
Here are some other renditions of myth that inspire me, found by the age-old method of averting one's eyes, opening a book and pointing. One of them may pique my interest enough to generate the obsession necessary for an acceptable final product. We shall see.
Point number one: Prajapati "Originally an abstraction allied to the smith god Visvakarma and signifying creative ability... the gods and demons are his children...."
Point number two: Lono and Laka Lono is something of a brute, with wild mood swings, who kills his unfaithful wife but then feels bad about it and throws a party in her honor every year. Nice. Laka, sister of this upstanding brute, is the goddess of the woodlands.
Point number three: Yeng-Wang-Yeh King of the underworld, deciding who was reincarnated and who went to which part of hell.
Others have been inspired... Prajapati the four-headed, a tribute... not my style but okayyyy...
Hunter S. had this idea that he was Lono returned, when he hit the shores of Hawai'i.
There we go... now THIS is more my style.
A nice smattering of dieties to start my studies, in any sense.
Yes, it was stupid of me to shove my hand deep inside the blender without taking off the blade attachment to clean it. I deserved that injury. It was the type of borderline dumbass move where one begins to wonder- well, was it even unplugged? (Yes, of course- what do you think I am: stupid?)
But opening the Jack's Special salsa container? There is no reason why they should design a lid that would slice into the skin of my thumb deeper than a metal blender blade sliced into my finger 10 minutes earlier. None.
At least the fireworks didn't end in bloodshed like everything else decided to. Rah rah, siss boom bah, et cetera.
Nonsequitur: Now I am enjoying Jon MacNair's illustrations.
They speak to me, in a sense. Very nice inkwork.
Back to the summer- I have a complaint or three. The rest of the summer is lacking festivities. I dislike summer as it is, but now it is onto the endless procession of hazy hot and humid, all making me yearn for that dry, crisp, cool that only something as wonderful as the next equinox could bring.
In the mean time- ice cubes. Limeade. Thinking of caves and victories.
Remember the adorable feline I took in, who had bilateral conjunctivitis and a distended belly?
Well, HE is doing just fine. He weighs 2+ pounds after 3 weeks (up from 1 pound 2 ounces) and is basically a furry little killer, in training. His maladies have cleared and it seems like his health will actually be good enough on his 3rd visit to the veterinarian to receive some immunizations. Finally.
I, on the other hand- My arms are ripped to shreds, being chewed on by the cat-in-training. Also, guess who has conjunctivitis now? I have conjunctivitis now! One of my eyes was even stuck shut one morning- just like the cat when we found him/he found us. Could this get any more ridiculous?
Answer: YES!
To make life even more fun, I suddenly have no access to any of my finances (thanks to MOVING and missing the necessary mailings to know some old unresolved debt of mine had gone to court). Fun fun fun. Could this get any more ridiculous?
Answer: YES!
My eldest gamete is completely- a)incorrigible, b)brainless, or c)both a + b. After an entire school year of antics including truancy (gasp!) and runaway status, I had to sign her up for Summer School (mortification). Week one, day 1- she is there. Week one, day two- she is there. Week one day three- I get a call from the school saying she is absent. How many absences before you're kicked out of summer school? TWO.
Could this get any more ridiculous?
DON'T ASK. The answer is always, always, always: yes. If it isn't, you're dead.
I usually don't vent about the details of my life so much, but as I have been absent for some time when I was intending to post regularly, I figure an explanation is due.
And, as the details of my life really don't allow for much socializing, what with the swollen, weeping eyeball, and the incorrigible teen, and the lack of any way to get money for drinks or gasoline for to feed my joyful mover (car), I've been a little bit disgruntled.
Good news: I hadn't deposited my most recent paycheck when my account trouble began, so I could pay my rent, and my bills, on time; unsweetened, frozen coffee drinks are in my daily life at no additional cost to me; I have acquired a washer and dryer that function even though the hot water hookup is the only one that works; there is endless free entertainment just a block from my home, a library, a museum, and if I get desperate enough, the train station.
I can count many small victories, and just keep trekking. Because of the good news, despite the fact that my eye is red along with my checking balance, life is good.
Onward.
P.S. Some anomalous entries may follow as I test the phone-updating option with this blog.
And the last item I could only find at night, oddly.
While I was hunting, I also found- a great many salientian beings and, in a very wet place,
the not-so-well-hidden remnants of a massacre.
Wasn't there a story about bogs being used as dumping grounds?
Of course this was the marshy part, not the boggy part, as any present or former limnologist, and/or wetlands murderer, but I repeat myself, could tell you.
Watching the grass grow as I devise clever new instruments of exasperation. Scuttle scuttle.
I want pull-tabs installed on everything and everyone. Don't you?
Presently reading: Lucretius
Presently playing: Some game where I can use classy, reckless violence. Else: strategy.
Presently hearing: internal dialogue, 1930s Jazz
