Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Sans everything.

I need to eat some kale. Or brussel sprouts, or bok choi, or something green and life giving. The idea of cooking life giving food is nice (and usually a priority in my day to day life) but lately it has been a series of cans and wrappers and bread and butter and toast and cheese. Crap. I feel like crap these days! (I just burst into tears writing that. Headphones and Adele made me forget that walls in Outre Mountain are paper thin and hand to mouth sobs can be heard all the way down the street, nevermind). Back to feeling like a big dump (as I spoon yet another bite of tomato soup into my mouth), this month has been an ass kicker so far. My work with Leo has been rough lately, he is frustrated, I am frustrated. He can't seem to express himself in any other ways than screaming or standing defiantly on the coffee table (not allowed). I can't seem to express myself in any other way than eating and crying. Crying and eating, eating and crying; I switch it up. The million miles treaded between my home here in this nice room and Leo's are innumerable. I wish red yarn rolled off of an unseen spool in my back each time I left one house to walk to the other. What a pretty pattern it would make. I switch up my routes, and cry on the walk home.

I don't feel like sewing (or showering).

Not to mention being incredibly conscious of time these days, tick-tocking away above the head of my bed on the wall; a constant reminder of the mountains of work to be done. And yet. And yet, what? Nothing is taking shape. No ideas, no imagination, no path. Footloose Margot. No clue where I will print my photos, no clue when I will make the time to draw eighteen more dossier worthy illustrations. The bitch of it is, time is not the issue (there are spots of time while Leo snoozes), it is pizzazz. Or lack of it. I am sans gumption and inspiration these days, weeks, months. I am dry and down, WORST feeling as an avid maker of things.

* Okay, so I am still sad and at a loss, but now armed with a letter from my mom in one hand and one more from Helen in the other, and thus I am digging. Digging for that something, whatever it is. I love to laugh, going to work on that. Begin anew here in Montreal, gear up, melt into this little person with crazy eyes, and just try to relax and just draw, even if it kills me. Mom before I read your letter, I drew a bear playing stand up bass. So thanks for the encouragement. I hope that DUMP is behind me. HA!

No comments:

Post a Comment