Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Oh That Smell.

Yesterday a dear friend drove me to the grocery store, it really isn't that far, but with a car I can stock up and not have to walk to fetch groceries three times a week. We drove in a sudden afternoon thunderstorm, well it wasn't really sudden considering that we can see the clouds building in the blue skies, rain preceded by hair raising thunder claps, anyway we drove in the downfall, I've seen worse. When we come out of from shopping, me spending nearly half the money that I have from dogsitting for a month, enough provisions for a week or so, the air whetted with rains on dry desert dirt, mountain's evergreens, and most of all fresh green chile roasting in the parking lot, luscious.
Waiting for the collectors to come over and hang out get high and buy something, they have been traveling here and there, man I would love a vacation, even a working one. This particular art lover promised at least three purchases, great, time off, just enough cash to get by, live my life, do what I do do and enjoy this moment of time without any pending deaths or family calamity's. Well they are late, so is my rent, the office is on property, I pretend that I can feel them breathing down my back, they don't really but it can be unsettling when the landlord sits just spitting distance from your place.
In the meantime I still do what I would anywhere, paint daily, love openly, get happy sad hungry and party. It was recently fiesta time here, something like the 400th one, a carnival like atmosphere, fun to be had especially since we live in a very gregarious environment wherein all the neighbors enjoy a decent sort of revelry. There was a party everyday from Thursday thru Sunday, everyone chipping in, whether it be food, booze, stories or whatever, nothing to complain about in this area. Much frivolity ensued and then the next day somehow we all together piece the previous night's event, oh that plus it was Brenda's closing reception, it really is great the way we all come together to support each other.
Someone asked me if I do indeed stop and smell the roses, actually I don't, I get so excited in shooting them that I forget all about it. Its like a weird obsession, kind of like cooking all day then being sick of it that the taste doesn't even matter. Like the fact that I finished my latest painting yesterday and while I should be starting another, I instead am just lingering, looking at jobs, not even sure of what I am capable of or who will hire me for ten dollars an hour so that I can be late with rent again next month while finding myself in a job that I hate wondering why I am not in my studio. Instead I am going to start my lasagne sauce shortly, vegetarian, simmer it all day, then off to a cocktail party with a potential local patron.
So I do some touch ups to the new piece, wondering why the hell did I spend my life living like this, certain that at this point that I am just fucking up the painting. Then I do things around the apartment that I put off during the process, dusting, cleaning, readying for fall. The air is perfectly chilled, so is the red wine that no one will drink, send out emails, update websites, read about politics, oh America, really? Crave cheese, drink scotch in the afternoon, smoke cigarettes, reel towards an afternoon nap, wonder why I am not reading Pynchon, read Jeff instead, download more music, work on the playlist, run outside with the camera, no good shots, the light is impeccable though, the compound is quiet.
Oh so the ex emailed, saying the same thing, saying nothing, saying that he wants to be friends, but if I don't I won't have to worry because he will never contact me again. And the first boyfriend from high school drops in a week or so ago, what a trip. We sat sharing stories, tales of which of our Gay friends survived the plague, lovers lost, plans for the future. It was pleasant enough, was there enough chemistry for friendship? Remembrances of time past, memories restored, the change that time brings revealed. Questions of future love scenarios, if only you could see me now kind of stuff. Life goes on. I remember why looking at his lips why I wanted to kiss him so much then, oh and did we ever.
I took the dog out for his walk this morning, he didn't go out last night because of some distant storm or maybe the smell of a coyote on the property, fine with me, I'll make some random sustenance dinner, try and watch a show online, relax, rest up from Fiesta, get to bed early. We fell to sleep early, could hear the neighbors out talking, trying to listen as I was falling into a deep sleep, dreams filled with adventures, drama, love, misfortune and anxiety. This morning as the dog and I were heading back I had to get closer to a pinkrose, was it worthy, wilting, any kind of decent shot there? I am up on some adobe wall, the dog whining trying to get back to that dusty dry riverbed. Soon enough some red ant bites him on the paw and he will not let me help, he whimpers, immobile. A car drives by, stops, a friendly face, an ant bit him, I say, the driver chuckles, sits there watching as I try to ascertain whether it is serious. Not much that I can do here without someone seeing.