The TRUE STORY – At a gathering one night *Monica tried and successfully squeezed her size 9 feet into size 6 roller skates… and skated in them for about an hour.
Yes her feet hurt afterwards. But the moral of the story is she had fun in her pursuit of happiness.
Size – 10 by 10 inches or 25.4cm by 25.4cm
Medium – Pilot G-tec C4 pen and water on Fabriano Sketchbook Paper.
Artist’s Satement – Day Dreaming
*name changed to protect the identity of this foot squeezer
I began, a few moments ago, thinking about how I wished I could remove my brain, throw it in the wash with detergent and later dry it outside on the line in the crisp autumn air.
I can’t literally do that though and that fact irks me especially after a day like today.
I am only able to wash my skin if dirty, exercise if fat and eat if hungry. The mind is different and yes, every one of those things affects the mind indirectly but they cannot immediately rid it of dirt.
This got me thinking about drugs and how I crave them during moments of high stress. Yes, moments, for the urge can pass to instantaneously fix the sleepiness, stupidness or inattentiveness. On days like today though the moments turned into hours and the 15 minute break worked for about 15 minutes upon my return to working. I know, I know there will be days like these.
I wish I had that little bottle on days like these. I wish I had my magic potion. I wish I could sip it into oblivion and be unaware of my own existence, only conscious of other’s insistence.
Today I found two pennies.
One could peer through the memories of her life. Only she necessarily could become not withstanding of her own sanity. Going from pen in hand to digital key tapping has been, but a transition of assembly to a more resounding thump on the back of my head. Thump thump. t.h.u.m.p.
There are times I want to go crazy.
Writing words without restraint and logic.
This discovery of a beast long laid to rest a thousand years ago. Beyond memory, beyond physical destiny there is perhaps a conciousness building.
Is paper like pixel? Is a keyboard fingers?
Does our mind see it as the same or different…
I type. I type. I type to you into the unknown.
This is all unknown.
I can only guess who reads what it is, that is written here.