It’s Midnight

I feel like writing tonight. It was a hard day with emotional highs and lows. The lows scraped the skin off my heart when I found that my car was leaking and the interior of my trunk was wet. I’ve grown to love my little car and it pains me to think of it moldy, dirty, or damaged in any way. I had to cut a phonecall short – for a good reason – my doorbell rang and JoLa, my incredible cousins were at the door, fresh from the roadtrip to see me. But that meant hanging up the phone and that was hard, so hard, for me to do. But pain and joy are often intermingled. At least that’s what poets say.

I’m reading a book about Andy Warhol. It’s fascinating. Really, it’s more about his art than his personage. Andy Warhol fascinates me because his art fascinates me and pop culture’s fascination with him and his art fascinate me. I’m in the middle of the book and I hope that the author continues to write more interesting non-fiction books. More books about good/bad art, artists, muses, and peafowl art dealers who care more about appearance than the absolute quality of their work.

You know. Scratch writing tonight. Until my muse shows up, I’m going to bed.

One Response to “It’s Midnight”
  1. Alyson says:

    If you were in Portland, the leak would be much more devastating. Can you imagine that amount of rain flooding into your poor car? The optimist’s point of view to your difficulty. (I love what you’ve done with JoLa, too. Awesome!)

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