Sunday, February 03, 2019

Blue Tigers

I'm writing about patterns again. Writing but in a kind of turpentine spill. Reads like a pseudo-somethingist's scrawl. Blather. Like the 'mad' Dog Catcher in FNQ, whose intriguing books (scientific observations and sketches?) he begged Vaddi to look at. The 'spill' is a place. A place for inspiration. I can't articulate the concepts that sometimes ghost their way into me. Yet I don't want to miss them, lose them, search again for them. They just river from other places, through me, and if I can place something of them into my own work then they can keep moving. I don't really work enough though - or rather, I'm not finishing much at the moment. Just scribbling trunks and murmuring harmonies.

Vaddi never looked at the Dog Catcher's books. The dogs chased the Dog Catcher.

Blue Tigers

Unus Mundus has been weaving a web for me over the last two or so months. When I wrench my head out of the clouds then I might play with this web. Or just look at it. Or keep playing D chords and drawing little dudes. Like this guy.

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