New works and compositions

The Fog:
The water lit with cantering iridescence, a result of sun and mist colliding at high tide. Heard were the loamy bellows of the foghorns requesting caution with seething intonations.


Other Matters:
Of late the time I'm not working at the grocery store I've been toiling away on a number of projects.

- Furniture: designing and constructing some very useful items, starting with a table for a bay window to put plants on during the cold weather. Next I shall attempt a pot rack, a bench, a bookshelf or two. This urge derived from my frustration of searching around town for cheap, tasteful furniture in moderate condition. I haven't started any of them, but look to in the next couple weeks when I can purchase some lumber...

- Paintings: with a vague theme in mind I'm starting to paint some images or scenes that have heretofore only existed as photos, sketches or ideas. Two are in progress and await some more pigments to complete. Several more are in planning stages (somewhere between sketches and wood panel)...

- Writings: began a short story that will serve as a prelude to the long-form that I've been working on these last couple years. Have shelved that long-form for the time being - perhaps awaiting a different perspective. Also, have been fleshing out a piece that will consist of a multitude of small stories paired with an illustration - each a page in size ...

Most importantly I've been enjoying this recent creativity and it fills me with purpose. Try to do journals more regularly.

Well jeez, where've I been

I suddenly found it prudent to focus my time on other activities. So what has happened since then?

-- Started working night shift
-- Autumn came and went
-- Holidays came and went
-- Crept into the new year
-- Things still excite me, just haven't written here about them

maybe I'll start again....

Aye, the summer dark feet

I've stood beneath green skies - yes, green the way I sees them - In the weeks since I've last written. I've taken early morning bike rides down straightaways - trails that lead to and parallel the crisp, cool tide. In the weeks since I've last written, yes. I've spent pacified nights on a screened porch - sparkled by fireflies in the inky dark. I dreamed of my brother and sister - how I miss them. Southern weather has come to visit - but for just a few days. I've targeted buoys with endless pebbled ammunition. In my weeks. I've, too, spent nights in the ceremonies of my own porch - feasted upon by mosquitos. Every evening I witness South Portland head to an early sleep - we own the town upon its slumber. And, aye, my feet are darkened by the long days under the sun. I've swam in the ocean, with its shocking temperature stealing my lungs. Sometimes, the clouds appear as pinkish smudges, warped by this very strange

latitude. And I love everything. Deep breathes - the salt flavored air! And what is a night without a walk on the beach? I've deciphered the moonshine as it collides with eddys by the coast. And I've met the spirit of my house, its a mirthful ghost.

Recovery

don't mind the posts that have nothing in them or abbreviated text, they're space holders, I will translate my journal entries to them soon

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worked some, celebrated too much

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