I found a spot to paint all by myself but did not stay long. My heart was not into painting today. This time of year, my clinical depression takes hold and colors begin to lose their vibrancy. The entire world begins to look like a faded charcoal drawing that even my daily Prozac can't bring to life.
So I drove home and put away my oils for the winter. I don't use oil paint in the house because of my wife's aversion to the smell of turpentine. Winter is a time to curl up in my favorite chair by the fire and contemplate new beginnings.
My depression does do one thing well, it allows me to build grandiose dreams. I begin to think of wild new art projects such as public sculptures made of wood and in the shape of mounted animal heads, map-like drawings on large sheets of paper, and a large series of small framed drawings on paper documenting The Cocoanut Grove Fire in Boston. Of course none of these things will see the light of day because, while I am able to imagine them, I lack the motivation to do any of them. That is what makes depression sad.
Even an afternoon spent at Hooter's lacked the usual sexual excitement and left me flaccid. I mean, I ended up watching a football game for fuck's sake. A sea of large breasted young women with nylon encased legs and all I could think about was the lack of ice in my iced tea and the presidential election. The best I am hoping for is some type of delayed reaction. In about four hours I bet I will be sitting at my computer and a banner ad for American Apparel will pop up and there will be four more weeks of winter, if you get my drift.
Well, I have a half bottle of Maker's Mark that I gotta finish so that I can engrave my next Presidents and Pantyhose bottles. I think this week it will be Mr. Grover Cleveland. Remember, bidding for these prizes start at just a penny and shipping is free.
So I drove home and put away my oils for the winter. I don't use oil paint in the house because of my wife's aversion to the smell of turpentine. Winter is a time to curl up in my favorite chair by the fire and contemplate new beginnings.
My depression does do one thing well, it allows me to build grandiose dreams. I begin to think of wild new art projects such as public sculptures made of wood and in the shape of mounted animal heads, map-like drawings on large sheets of paper, and a large series of small framed drawings on paper documenting The Cocoanut Grove Fire in Boston. Of course none of these things will see the light of day because, while I am able to imagine them, I lack the motivation to do any of them. That is what makes depression sad.
Even an afternoon spent at Hooter's lacked the usual sexual excitement and left me flaccid. I mean, I ended up watching a football game for fuck's sake. A sea of large breasted young women with nylon encased legs and all I could think about was the lack of ice in my iced tea and the presidential election. The best I am hoping for is some type of delayed reaction. In about four hours I bet I will be sitting at my computer and a banner ad for American Apparel will pop up and there will be four more weeks of winter, if you get my drift.
Well, I have a half bottle of Maker's Mark that I gotta finish so that I can engrave my next Presidents and Pantyhose bottles. I think this week it will be Mr. Grover Cleveland. Remember, bidding for these prizes start at just a penny and shipping is free.
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