Skip to main content

blindekuh

blindekuh; black acrylic ink on letraset paper, illo for a story (an old one now, but updated for a new collection).

* * * * *
First cold of the year, of the season. Actually snuck it in at the tail end of the 2011, a cough that started up from nowhere. You know: suddenly you're coughing. Taking NyQuil before bed and getting some sleep but trouble waking up in the morning and when I do wake up it's all slow legs and thoughts like rubber cement. I told this to C this morning and she asked me
So, do you feel foggy in the morning?
Me: Yeah, that's what I just said.
C: But do you feel foggy in the morning?
Me: Yeah. I do. Like I said. When I said that.
C does interviews for Profile Kingston and I always wonder if they go like this:
C: So, what are the ideas that you're most proud of?
Interview Subject: Well, it was my idea to invade Poland.
C: Anything else? Like, invading Poland, for example? Whose idea was that, anyway?
A doctor recently warned me against taking too many decongestants so I'll probably try to sleep sans drugs tonight, which has not been that successful lately, so wish me luck.

Comments

  1. Anonymous10:20 am

    Love it! Christian answers no first to any questions I ask and then proceeds to tell me exactly what I said. I usually say in response, What the hell is wrong with you? Didn't I just say that?! Legal-aids can be just as annoying as the lawyers they work for. I need to learn to do that and then we can both drive each other crazy. :-)

    ReplyDelete
  2. Sorry you're foggy - me too.

    Happy New Year!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

the indisputable weight of the ocean

People are always telling me that my work is too dark. So I've put up this sunnier story, but even it has a shadow, as its original publisher – a fine Atlantic Canadian literary magazine called the Gaspereau Review – is no longer in business. ---------------- It was a simple enough thing and that thing was simply this: Edmund Kelley was a gentleman. Of course his mom called him her 'little gentleman', as in 'Oh Edmund, you are my perfect little gentleman,' which did seem to hold to a certain logic that these type of things often follow, considering her affection for him and the fact that he was, after all, only ten years old. Still, Edmund himself was not particularly fond of the diminutive aspect of that title. Gentleman was enough; gentleman summed up the whole thing rather nicely, thank you. He was definitely a more refined version of your average child. He lived in a state of perpetual Sunday m

Oona Balloona (doesn't care about new tables)

Well, it's Friday, and since I'm pretty depleted in the chit-chat department, I might as well put up some pictures of Ol' Giggles At Ghosts before Grandma starts sending me hate mail. Man, what a goofball. At this rate it's going to be, like, eighteen years before she has gainful employment and moves out of the house. I mean, come on . * * * * * C is especially crazy and frantic today. About two months ago she decided that she no longer liked our dining room table (take that, dining room table! no more BFF for you!). Since then she's switched the dining room and kitchen table (and all the rest of the furniture in the house -- about thirty times, but that's another story) as a provisional solution while she scoured area stores for an upgrade. And she thought she had found one, on Wednesday, at JYSK ( Whatever , I said). But when she ordered it, JYSK called back to say that they were really low on stock, and that the stock they did have was damaged, and

some paintings to keep you company

  at the stations of seeing ; mixed media on cradled wood panel, 24 x 30 inches.   $350 local.     At the Stations of Seeing I expected something on the level of poetry moving the machinery within but instead it was wreckage and difficult instructions Recursive Procedures for Life Structures and that sort of thing. IF—THEN—ELSE where the option is optional CASE, which is multi-situational DO—WHILE the function is zero BREAK and LOOP again and again until failure. please CALL, if you can, or while you are still missed. . . . I went away for awhile, for various reasons, and now I am starting to come back. Where I finally end up is anyone's guess, but one of the stations on the path of that return is a willingness to sell my art again; this post is about just one of the larger paintings I currently have for sale for clients and customers in the Kingston area. A good place to start. The prices for these works are lower because the transaction is personal, easier — come by my stud