Have almost finished the Blake inspired drawing, in colour this time (pencil). It's a poor facsimile of what was seen in the dream but it's okay. Have got to get better at layering colours, building them up to a rich deep finish. I get too heavy too quick and then have no where to go when wanting to change them. Had to resort to some pastel over the top to get the effect wanted. It's not quite there, the three dimensionality is lacking but it's coming. I rather like it. Rather like a jeweled parrot - a parrot of my imagination. There is no such parrot in the wild.
Waiting in the imagination wings is another drawing whose origin is a dream. It's a surreal one. Don't know what these images say about me but I think they are worth exploring if for no other reason than they are unsought after images so are images straight from the creative part of me or at least the dreaming part of me.
Matisse, although a wonderful Siamese, is quite spoiled and demanding. Nairobi has the favourite spot in the sun atop a padded cat house which they squished down by sitting on the roof and making it a doubly padded basket sort of thing. Matisse wants to remove Nairobi and sit in the sun but Nairobi was there first. Heard the hissing, looked around the corner and saw them both with pinned ears. Growled at Matisse and he stopped his standover tactics. He knows when he's in the wrong.
R is working at the annual local show for the next 2 days. Went into town this morning to get groceries. Saw two heavily tattooed black clad bikie types enjoying the winter sunshine on the pedestrian crossing. One removed his hat to shade his baby from the brightness. Even those who wish to portray themselves as hard men are subject to the love of family. It was a sweet glimpse of the power of love.
Had the best time with Jack yesterday. He took treats without hesitation and with less of that I'm going to gouge your eyes out with my talons look in his eye. Still won't eat pellets although he shows interest when I ooh and aah about them as I said yesterday. If he'd only crunch them and have a taste he'd know they are quite delectable. Even Algernon, who has been released for several years now, still likes pellets as a change from bird seed. Have been searching the net for Roudybush and Harrison pellets. I know I can get roudybush from Toowoomba but it's a long way to drive - and the price, knowing Doneley, will be exorbitant. Provet no longer stocks it. Dimitri will have to make the change to Vetafarm. I put it in his dish with Roudybush crumbles. So far he hasn't touched it. If only I could explain the difficulties to be had in trying to get their favourite.
Was sitting outside with R yesterday having a morning cuppa. Looked over at him as he was talking and it hit me that here is this person I'm sharing my life with and he's a complete stranger. I love him. That's not the question. It was just as he was talking I realized I had no real idea who he was, who he is. This 63 year old man, wearing a wool beanie against the cold, a man I've lived with since 1987, shared intimacies with, laughed with, cried with, fought with and made up afterward with was suddenly as foreign as that bikie shading his baby with a hat. How completely Other he is still. It doesn't seem to make a difference how much you think you know someone they are still Other. The only true companionship, true knowledge is the knowledge of Oneself and even that most of us, including me, are only on the pleased to meet you shaking hands level.
On Catalyst last night was a segment about transcendental meditation. Used to have a book about it but haven't seen it for years so probably gave it away. Sounds like basic meditation except in its use of a teacher given mental mantra - and the cost which can be $1500. Guess I'll just stick with my bumbling attempts at meditation after yoga.
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