This weekend feels particularly luxurious. It has been Friday after all since Wednesday. Imagine a pile of Fridays all stacked one on top of the other. Hour after hour to piddle around. Oh, what shall I do first? What’s that John Coltrane says about starting in the middle and moving both direction at once? Yes. I think I’ll do that.
Lately every page in my book has a stencil portrait. It’s going to be that way for awhile. I’m just saying. I have no control over what gets lodged in the spokes of all those wheels whirring away up here. Whir, whir, whir.
The journal is halfway filled. It’s a heavy behemoth of a thing. Soon I’ll need a pack mule to carry it from porch, to spraypaint station out back, to workshop.
You know how it is.