It's overcast and windy and I'd really like to stay indoors today, but I have to go to the bank and the grocery. I am intending to submit at least 2 things today and look for more places so that I can get back into the stream of putting my work out there. Having Jenny's co-worker remember my essay and talk about it even when I wasn't there really gave me a boost. Maybe I can do this writing thing after all.
February 3--Jackson Pollock, Silver over Black, White, Yellow, and Red. Chaos. Colors fly at me out of a vanishing point, bombarding me with their wet, hot breath. Black and silver carry the rest, blaze the trail out of nothing into something. Fiery red pulses in the center as it flails my eyes and sears the air until there is nothing to breathe. No cool blues or greens to bring relief. Only the metallic lash of the silver as it bears down on me from a great height. The pseudo-friendly yellow shows its fangs as it skulks on the fringes, not brave enough to attack on its own. Power is what it is all about. Power lashing out of the universe to pin me in space and flog my senses with wind and heat and agression.
Well, I like that. Not so much a story but I like the mood.
--Barbara
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