I haven't been posting that much lately. I suck in this respect. Not only that, I haven't been cycling as much as I should. My house needed painting and I've been doing that. It's no excuse though and I realize. I'm so burned out after work and then I come home and paint.
But there's a certain calm in painting. Houses... (there's no calm in art painting/ oil painting for me. That's like work. I always stress when I do that.) But house painting, you're up on that ladder and spreading out the latex.. It's a summer thing. Mindless in a way, but rewarding too.
That's been my world. Up on a ladder painting my house. The smell of the latex. The clink of the extention ladder as I raise and lower it. The feel of the water when I clean out the brush.
Well there's that.
I want to something about the King of Pop but I can't find the right direction. I loved some of the music. There's something strange though, and not just about his death.