Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Dumas, Hardy, Dickens
The main reason I went to Goodwill this time was to look for odds and ends I could paint or attach drawings to. There was an old Russian in the picture aisle. His beard was white, except for its pattern of nicotine, and several inches longer than mine. He was leaning on a shopping cart with one hand and with the other he was wrestling with frames. By that time I had already found these three books, and they were hampering me in my search. Since the man was directly in my path, I moved to the frying pan aisle. How would it be, I wondered, if I painted something in the bottom of a six-inch cast iron pan? Two eggs sunny side up, perhaps. Of course I have no paint, and know nothing about surfaces and how it’s applied. One aisle over, a woman started singing. Softly — part lullaby, part lament.
[click to enlarge]
Recently Linked: My thanks to The Scrybe for signing on as a follower of Recently Banned Literature. In addition to being a member of the Flowers of Sulfur poetry collective, The Scrybe ponders the universe from a shallow window.
In the Forum: elves mixing up a batch of killer homebrew.