turning up the fire ...

rolling up the proverbial sleeves and getting to it ... feeling all kinds of feisty and fired up ... first from this:

"— you know, I've either had a family, a job, something
has always been in the
way
but now
I've sold my house, I've found this
place, a large studio, you should see the space and
the light.
for the first time in my life I'm going to have a place and the time to
create."

no baby, if you're going to create
you're going to create whether you work
16 hours a day in a coal mine
or
you're going to create in a small room with 3 children
while you're on
welfare,
you're going to create with part of your mind and your
body blown
away,
you're going to create blind
crippled
demented,
you're going to create with a cat crawling up your
back while
the whole city trembles in earthquake, bombardment,
flood and fire.
baby, air and light and time and space
have nothing to do with it
and don't create anything
except maybe a longer life to find
new excuses
for.

- Charles Bukowski, air and light and time and space

Then there is this: 

ah, Mel ... how do i love thee? let me count the ways ...

I am a bit disheveled from the explosiveness of it all ...

a drawing a day ... showing up, as myself, every day ...

but in a good way.  In a way that is hearing the mermaids singing, is recovering the lost stories within ...

My heroine is taking shape ... 

I can't say much more ... superstitious I suppose, but I don't want to scare away the magical ones.  

Yes, I am clearing my path forward through the brambles, the heather, skirting the poison ivy and seeking the honeysuckle. Tally ho!  Feeling the vibrations of Beltane in the air ... rabbits playing tag in my yard, mourning doves screaming as they fly.  I'm all 50-shades of whirling dervish ... I attribute it to the excellent company I find myself keeping these days ...



 

Hang on, it's going to be a wild ride!