or maybe some i do but not my main invite, which i feel a bit bad about.
just can't deal with the crowds downtown tonight.
feel the success of second saturday is maybe not such a good thing after all - not for openings anyway. art needs to be considered and I'm not convinced people can really see anything with other social doings going on right behind them.
does my butt look big in these shorts?
what - no cheese plate?
oh great - there's ________!
i could paint that with my tongue, geez.
or maybe, after drawing for eight and a half hours today, i have just simply gone somewhere else from which there's no easy return. which is to say, i lost words at about 11:00 for the rest of the day, and, with the twenty some other marathon drawers, fell deeply into the trance of body shapes, light and shadow, breasts and tendons and complicated muscles, extremely thick or thin thighs, stern watery gazes, maddening hair, humiliating foreshortening (but a lovely recline anyway), delicate, worrisome balance, surprising graphite-gobbling corpulence. mostly though, i can't seem to see or think about anything but male model number one's feet. i've never seen more beautiful feet. his hands too. how much time does one need to just see these structures for what they are?
that's why I can't talk to anybody.
won't worry about it further.
think i'll go down to my studio, tear up that stupid carpet and get ready to rock n' roll.
