sangiovese di romagna

having spent the last three days painting solid
from 5am till nightfall (i live in the 1920's)
and with little, nay, nothing to show for it
other than a single canvas of abortions...
my back finally gave in.. i hadn't realised that
standing doubled over for hours on end seriously
fucking hurts.. and all for precious nothing..

grand.

i decided to take the day off from painting..
my brother took me with him to collect his brand
new vehicle..

sat in the rather gleaming honda showroom i looked
down to notice that my fingernails where a rather
fetching shade of prussian blue with a hint of
cadmium yellow hue...
add to this my general designer 'pensioner chic'
i wondered how long before one of the employee's
(all of which seemed to be called miles with
haircuts costing more than my house)
would ask me to leave..

i just sat there patiently waiting.. drinking
coffee from a logo emblazoned cup that was out
of my price range..

i don't belong in this everyday world..

i belong in my garage with paints and trauma
and radio 4.

i rather liked my brothers new car though,
beautifully designed, looked like some kind
of 'h r giger' creation, all clean and mean
lines.. very cool..
if i could afford a car i'd have one...

on that note, here is a picture by van gogh
i'm kinda of in love with at the moment..



sorry, that was two minutes of your life
you will never get back..