earlier, in my head, there was a long entry full of self-pity & maybe the only good thing in it was that i mentioned that someone found me by searching for
when i saw you i was afraid to look at you.
i called in sick to work today. they tried to bring me in anyway for a tiny chunk of the afternoon. i resisted. literally kicking & screaming i refused to go to work. most of this was directed at mischka because he happened to be at hand. & this is my public apology for that. i was awful. forgive me.
& then there was the hour or so that chris spent telling me to get over it & i hope you don't mind chris that i am going to put down what you said to me:
it's like your leg has been sliced off by a moving train. & there's a slight possibility, really there is, that a collective of ants might pick up your severed leg & bring it back to you. or you can work on healing your bleeding stump & figure out how you can get a prosthesis, which isn't going to be pretty but at least works.
(also helpful on getting over it: this american life & nerve.com. also the dismemberment plan. for now.)
(chris also said i have a Hyperactive Cathexis Module. rock on, he's right.)
so what i am going to do instead of sleeping or even watching say anything or even practicing chess so i can take mischka to school someday, what i am going to do instead is start dinner, & make my plans for this frame i have to build, & work on christmas presents for the people i love.
:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:& i want to write about st john of damascus, whose day is today, & how to me he is the secret saint of art historians, fighting the iconoclasts in the eighth century.
Of old God the incorporeal and uncircumscribed was not depicted at all. But now that God has appeared in the flesh and lived among men, I make an image of the God who can be seen.
this time last year i was obsessed with iconcoclasm, too. i dated an iconcolast, briefly. we argued about religious art. in school i would get really hyper about aniconism (especially in the �secular� twentieth century) which i no longer think is the answer. let me remember this when i am painting, too, this weekend.
i think saint john of damascus was one of those pulling me toward the church. but i don't usually say things like that out loud.
