This guy jumped off the page when I was journaling this morning. I am outrageously tired this week – physically, mentally. I’m about to take off to the Keys for a few days to see if that helps anything. At the least, there is rum.

Let this be another entry in the eons-old debate regarding the purpose and function of art in our culture.

“Art, in the end, may be little more than this: convincing people to set aside their natural reluctance long enough to register your vision.”

Richard Russo, The Destiny Theif 

It is easy to be confused by art. Instagram pages carefully curated to reflect a specific tone. Landscapes with blown out colors. Images or words we know we aren’t supposed to like, now used in a context we don’t necessarily comprehend. Somewhere in the thick of it lies the tingle of reaction. Not sure how, or why, yet we know it when that ONE thing resonates.

Writing would be great if it weren’t the only thing I knew how to do.

I publish as much as I can, you’ll just have to wait for the rest.

 

Writing would be great if it weren’t the only thing I knew how to do.

I publish as much as I can, you’ll just have to wait for the rest.