So the owl's been quite content; as of late, her nest has been virtually unshaken by the habits of the field mouse. In fact, she nearly forgot about the rodent. Part of her almost wants to ask. But another part knows that would be instigation.
Hoot, hoot.
Or is this just a calm before another storm? Don't let the newly stitched patch get frayed.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Saturday, March 14, 2009
True Story.
Kneeling on the floor, half-heartedly replacing price stickers in Fine Arts. Drawing paper, charcoal and acrylics all went up - it figures. With a sigh, I deem a jar of gesso three dollars higher when Mike pops up beside me.
"Having fun?" Says he.
"Oh yeah, a total blast." Says I.
"Isn't this what you were doing last week? I remember visiting you then and you were sitting in the same aisle."
"No, then I was counting. Now I'm making everything more expensive."
We chat. I ask how framing is. He tells me about his other job interview. Then, we notice a container of cadmium orange paint that looks a little off. It appears to have either blue or purple mixed in it, but the lid showed no signs of tampering.
"That's really freaky." Mike observes, cracking open the jar as we peer inside. "It doesn't look like anyone touched it, it's just turning colors."
"I think maybe it got bored just sitting there. 'I think I'll try being blue today!'"
"Oh my god, the paints have become sentient beings! They're conspiring amongst themselves... One of these days, we'll be doing recovery and suddenly they'll all just jump off the shelves, biting at us! We'll have the fight them back, armor will become part of the Five Star dress code! The only thing is, they'll behave when [our boss] Patty's around - but that's all. Just Patty. She'll walk past the aisle, see us panicked and covered in paint and say, 'What the hell happened here?! You're fired.' and we'll have to say 'But Patty! The paint was attacking us!'"
"Then she'll say, 'Okay. You're fired and you're getting locked up."
"Yeah... Oh jeez." Mike sighs, walking away and I return to my labels completely amused.
Minutes later, he walks back with a spray bottle, pointing menacingly at the lines of paint, daring them start any trouble.
Fine Arts: Serious Business.
"Having fun?" Says he.
"Oh yeah, a total blast." Says I.
"Isn't this what you were doing last week? I remember visiting you then and you were sitting in the same aisle."
"No, then I was counting. Now I'm making everything more expensive."
We chat. I ask how framing is. He tells me about his other job interview. Then, we notice a container of cadmium orange paint that looks a little off. It appears to have either blue or purple mixed in it, but the lid showed no signs of tampering.
"That's really freaky." Mike observes, cracking open the jar as we peer inside. "It doesn't look like anyone touched it, it's just turning colors."
"I think maybe it got bored just sitting there. 'I think I'll try being blue today!'"
"Oh my god, the paints have become sentient beings! They're conspiring amongst themselves... One of these days, we'll be doing recovery and suddenly they'll all just jump off the shelves, biting at us! We'll have the fight them back, armor will become part of the Five Star dress code! The only thing is, they'll behave when [our boss] Patty's around - but that's all. Just Patty. She'll walk past the aisle, see us panicked and covered in paint and say, 'What the hell happened here?! You're fired.' and we'll have to say 'But Patty! The paint was attacking us!'"
"Then she'll say, 'Okay. You're fired and you're getting locked up."
"Yeah... Oh jeez." Mike sighs, walking away and I return to my labels completely amused.
Minutes later, he walks back with a spray bottle, pointing menacingly at the lines of paint, daring them start any trouble.
Fine Arts: Serious Business.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
[ and the world belongs to them when they dance ]
but at night
in the dark when the sun goes down
yes at night
night is when they go to town
and they dance!
and she feels like Ginger Rogers
they dance!
he's got the flair of Fred Astaire
I really want to attend a formal dance party. The prom scene in Twilight and listening to token songs from my own senior prom make me really wish annual dances like that still happen in college. Or, perhaps they do, and then I wish I knew about them. I want to get dressed up. I want there to be a DJ. I want the lights to be low and color to be everywhere.
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