An oldie because I’m horribly unoriginal like that. You might just look at it and think “oh, it’s a drawing”. I spent the longest, longest time hacking that mount into size with the tiniest, bluntest nail scissors that have ever existing this side of the milky-way. If I had nibbled my way around the edges I probably would have seen faster success. Seen the light at the end of the tunnel. Seen something about something. Blah blah something.
I don’t even know. I am so hot I do believe I am melting. If you combined slush and pâté, you’d be getting about close to how liquid my entire existence is right now. I’m feeling dramatic okay?! It’s hot. Tomorrow will be even more so. Tomorrow I’m not going to bother communicating using words. I’m just going to wail high pitched shrieks of distress.
They’ll say “Sarah sounds like she might be a bit hot”. “We had better buy her a Solero.” Or something along those lines. I mean, you get the picture. I feel like buttered toast.
It is so deranged. I never feel like I can write until my brain goes into overdrive. My chest feels so wound up tight like a jack-in-the-box.
Like, I am fine. There is nothing wrong.
But sometimes my body has enough of being normal and will kick into anxiety mode just because normal is too normal.
I think..”I can breathe. I can just deep breathe my way through this because it is just a reflex. There is nothing to deal with or cope with. Just breathe, breathe, breathe.”
And then I close my eyes and my dreams are so vivid and exhausting I’m cranked up one notch further. I’ve considered writing them down. They have a plot, characters, costumes and a narrative. I could do a screen play a week. But no one wants to see the inside of my head. Honestly, it’s overwhelming.
Whatever. Maybe this is normal. I just can’t see inside your head, I can only peer into my own. I mean fuck, I don’t understand it. No one does. I just hope that everyone else is as bewildered as I am.
So I’ve been a busy bee. I sold another painting. Which I am stupidly happy about. Like a goofy – all teeth grin – happy about.
I’ve made a right mess.
A nice little work-in-prog for y’all! Since taking the photo I have caked on several more layers of paint so it is more a snapshot of time.. Never to be seen again. Gone, gone, goner. I am freaking awful with taking photos, so you will get what you are given and you will be happy with it. No complaints, please. I just wanted a slice of the texture, you see. And I kind of feel like I got it.
It is good to be brave. It is good to be different. To try new things. But if I could impart you with some wisdom, I would tell you this.. If you see “chicken omelette” on a menu, just walk on by. Do not pass Go. Do not collect £200. Do not eat weird food combinations which will ruin both your week and weekend.
One I made earlier! (Last night!)
It’s all sunny and glorious today innit. I’ve got my arms and legs out. I’ve swathed my body in brown gloop so only time will tell if I end up looking like some sort of bronzed goddess or – and this is more likely – like I could do with another bath.
Wish me luck!
These beasties arrived today. I totally went to write ‘beauties’ there but autocorrect stuck it’s nose in and actually.. I think I prefer ‘beasties’ anyway. But yeah, despite the endless, endless, endless (times infinity) occasions I had directed you to their Etsy listing, I actually hadn’t gotten these printed until now. So many times I got to the printing stage and then freaked out and thought they wouldn’t be perfect looking enough. Like much of my anxieties, in hindsight they did not hold much substance. I am happy with them.
Just got back from the doctors. I’m on antibiotics because I managed to bite myself so hard that my bottom lip has (pretty much) doubled in size. It’s been a “sore subject” for a few days, and I’m not sure what happened to me in the night but I woke up looking like the result of some seriously cut price lip fillers. Save yourself the money, just get your mouth to try and eat itself. Jobs a good’un.
If you need me, I will be nursing my wounds and feeling just so awfully sorry for myself. In case you thought I was exaggerating one of my friends said it did “look a bit ropey” and that “it is amusing, like Bo Selecta”. As distressing as it is to admit, that’s not the first time in my life I’ve been told I look like Keith Lemon..
Oh no, that is not a hideous sex doll vs Quasimodo hybrid, this is just my face now. Back to my bell tower I go. I’ll be avoiding wearing leather for the forseeable.
My erm.. “Work station”. Always draw on the floor, tables don’t do it for me.