I must confess to some feelings of guilt here. I want to write pages, reams, tomes about my Lady N, truly. And yet, it is not where the story takes me, and is not the order in which things happened.
Oh, I spent a great deal of time mulling over my lady. Hiraedd, you might call it, that Celtic longing for what can not be had. I wanted her back, of course. Who wouldn't? How many of the dearest, closest friends are we given in this life?
And sometimes I was angry with her. How could she, I would think. How dare she take her self away from me? Well everyone has their self-centered moments, do they not? I had struggled for years between different feelings, never knowing exactly how I felt.
But now, suddenly, the note of my sadness changed. It became a larger kind of sadness, I think. I was angrier too, but it was not anger at her.
First I was angry at her father, because I realized that he had done something to her. Not something physical, but something. He had created within my Lady N the seed that would slay her. Was it not his hand, in some way, that wielded the glass, wielded the bottles of liquor that became her art; he, the failed artist, who had given her every self-hating phrase in her vocabulary to repeat endlessly, a song of her longing for his acceptance?
Well that is exactly how it was, at least if you ask me. And if he ever gets around to reading this, assuming the old man is still alive, he can eat the pages on which I write and choke.
Oh damn, I am being ungracious. Let me say that I came upon more insights into how people treat each other, and how we respond, and that I will write about them in time. But now I must be true to the story, and that means dreams and druids and a trail of little insights.
I tried to avoid the Turquoise Eye for several days. But I kept dreaming of that damned, rasping, whispering sound, and I shivered at the thought of sleeping another night.
And the hum of the sander! It is amazing how many places that same sound appears. It is the sound of sixty hertz passed through resisting coils. I could not escape it anywhere.
So, I went back to the Turquoise Eye.
Bargue drawing study done with charcoal on watercolor paper - I picked back up on some Bargue drawing exercises in order to help train my eye for precision and accuracy. These drawings are a true test of patience. B...
1 day ago