babinscreams

"Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeel!", like a pig facing slaughter. He let his shoulders fall, lip curl, posture sag, "What about me?" "What about you?" Her question was genuine. "I need you,..." "Why?" "Because you complete me, baby." "You're delusional." "That's not very nice." "Don't take it personally. We all are. Some more than others." "But, I need your love." "You have it." "But you're giving me all this harsh shit. That's not loving me." "The shit starts and ends right there behind your eyeballs. My love is what's trying to bring it out front so you might see it." "You're killing me, baby." "I think the 'you' that is spewing this drivel should be killed. It's stinking up the room." And with that, she pulled out her Glock 19 and let him have it. “Fuck Zen”, she was heard to mutter as she staggered

This weekend finished the second gate at my house.  I dedicated the gate to Ann.  I used  pieces of an old, circular oak table that was curbside awaiting trash pickup. I painted using oils and varnish. There are broken bits of ceramic too. When I posted this photo, people on Face Book responded favorably. One of my co-workers spoke of similar works for sale. I was thrilled by the reactions and began to contemplate being paid for work like this. I posted the following: Now, if I can appeal to the universe: "psst, hey, fate and circumstance, what if enough people became aware of my work, and found in it a value worth paying for, and I could actually cover my bills with the proceeds? What d'ya think?" I fe el like Tevia. Except he was asking to become a wealthy man. I'm already there. The wealth of joy that exists in the process of making one of these is irreplaceable. I wonder if joy would diminish when money entered the equation? " I'll make you a deal.