Seems these last few weeks that feeling has been there as quickly as it goes. I left my journal at a friend of friends house and have yet to retrieve it. She said the night earlier she would run it up and punched my phone number into her phone as I exited the cab. Never trust a drunk person. I forgot it. I’ve been trying unsuccessfully to get her phone number from that good friend and she has not written back with it yet. Three weeks have passed.
I think I’ll trek down to this woman’s house tomorrow. Thoughts of her 11 year old daughter destroying the journal race through my head. Truth be told NEVER lend your good pens to someone who is NOT an artist. They will use them like a hammer. Once I have my journal back in hand I’ll Illustrate why. The pen’s tip in question has a leak now and no longer flows smoothly with green ink to paper. This mishap was from another night out with another good friend. A month has passed since.
I’ve not been feeling it lately people. I’m lost in this small city. Old friends are wonderful yet they don’t fill that creative void yet I just continue going out with them to the same old hang outs that play god awful music. I’ve never in all my life heard so many trainwrecks in 15 minutes times 1000. The clubs here change owners every year or so. A new Gangster moves in. A new name is given to the club thus increasing attendance in the short term yet the music remains pop, top 40 and country and these people call themselves DJ’s. Blasted! Two week’s have passed since.
You know what makes me happy… drawing, creating, conversing about life and my family. Not bars, cars, American Idol and certainly not hockey. Good food, a good documentary and a glass of wine is divine. Yes, folks I do drink alcohol with supper or socially. And yes, folks I am sober of chemicals for almost a thousand days.
A male friend of mine and I broke up recently. I miss him. I miss people with whom I used to create with on a weekly basis in person. I miss Vancouver or is the memory of that, just intense.
Pulling out my journal here to draw or write amongst friends is futile. There are those few who respect silence while we each do our own thing whilst enjoying each other’s presence. It’s not all bad. I’ve been absorbing it all and I’m full and fighting the urge to explode. Mmmm miniatures is not cutting it at the moment. Maybe some larger acrylic painting…
I do believe this city has something for me. I believe I have something to give this city. I’m here. The city is here. Neither of us are going anywhere anytime soon.
I will not run nor hide nor continue to do the things I am doing as some of them don’t feel good. And if it’s not feeling good then don’t do it.
So are you feeling it? Ask yourself that.
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