The Incredible Force and other childhood games.
Shove me into spectacular.
And genius—dip me in some genius.
Smack me with astonishing.
Elbow me into marvelous.
MORE.
|
|||||||
|
Sometimes when I am painting, I think my canvas may bow in the middle like a cheap swing set—a result of all of the layers of paint that are resting on it. I’ve been waking up every morning between 4-430 for the last several months and I hate it. I’m tired. There is no reason for me to be up at the crack of ass. Passion is such a ruling planet in all our lives–if we allow it. Thank God they didn’t shoot Seabiscuit. There’s a soft center spot, a place where things have not fully come together, a sort of hazy Bermuda Triangle where change insists you shed something old and pick up something new. I glanced through Facebook this morning and it appears that all of my friends are curing cancer, building monuments and teaching children to read. Oh. There is a wind that kicks up in me on a regular basis—an enormous dust devil that obscures my view, a tornado that picks up my house but never sets it down gently. Do you feel it? We could have a whole discussion about not judging a book by its cover. But we all do it. And we do it for a reason—even though someone’s exterior doesn’t represent the whole of that person or even the most important part of that person, the exterior does provide us with tells. |
|||||||
|
Copyright © 2012 an agent of change - All Rights Reserved |
|||||||
