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A few weeks ago (yeah, blog, behind), classes at the library. On Podcasting and Marketing. Why not? They're free. And so I attend.
Good, informative, on how to write successful, punchy copy, layout brochures, organize a podcast, write for radio/podcasting.
Good, useful, not exactly what I was looking for - but then, what was I looking for?
The teacher, 40 years in "The business" certainly new his stuff, affable and explained it thoroughly and well. The class, first class, 4 people, 2 people for the last class, so plenty of time for questions, answers, will be watching for more classes at the library. Time well spent.
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Now, with my new phone package kicked in, tethering my computer to the phone.
It's slow, but better than nothing, and my computer, it's not so quick anyways. Not so speedy.
And I've noticed, when I'm on the computer I'm up to a lot more intelligent pursuits than when I'm on the phone.
There's no endless scrolling or Facebooking, the computer's too slow, I have to go on it with reasonably intelligent questions looking for answers, research, it doesn't facilitate the click-scroll-click-bait behaviors, on the phone, 20 minutes on Facebook and I'm getting ads for Adult ADD behavior, on the computer I'm not going on Facebook.
So, slight improvements, one by one...
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So, finally, confronting my anxiety and resolving to use up my art supplies.
Most of which, at the time of this writing, have pleasantly decayed into uselessness, repeated freeze-thawing of the watercolors, acrylics and oils has left very little that remains useful.
Whew.
Before beginning I consult with some of the innumerable YouTube videos on the particular topic I've chosen.
"Painting for Imbeciles". Results may vary.
I comb through them, there are many, many, many and I watch quite a few before settling on a couple I like.
This should be a cinch.
Of course, it isn't, and while the artist/narrator surely knows his stuff it's not coming through the screen to me.
They tell me that color and shape and tonality are important.
Like bloody hell they are.
I paint along. If he's painting a ballerina I end up with Bigfoot. If he's painting a still life I end up with a bullet-ridden corpse.
Maybe they were right?
Are these my eyes? What in the hell am I doing wrong? If I stand 10 feet back from the canvas, glasses off, it only vaguely resembles what I'm working towards.
Step any closer and it falls apart.
Rub it out, try again.
And again.
And again.
I'm realizing why I so long postponed this, what I can't figure out is how I have so many art supplies...
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And the snow, falling the first day of December and every day since.
It's beginning to feel a lot like Christmas...
The first day, postings on Facebook of a list of streets to avoid, one watched 3 accidents in 15 minutes, to embark down the hill, steep, 45 degrees, sheer ice, and uncontrolled slide into parked cars, this is the moment a lot of people realize they shouldn't have parked on the hill, they should have put on winter tires, and a hundred other such considerations as the slip-slide uncontrollably down the mountain...
By the second the idiots have largely been culled, now it's just the wintry days and perpetual snow, absolutely beautiful, this town could easily be the setting for a Hallmark Christmas Film.
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A Desk...
Small, but it holds all the books I've read the past couple of years.
Which leads to some choices, and I begin the cull today:
Mark Twain, letters...gone
Anais Nin....gone
Henry Miller...gone...
Nabokov...gone
Now, my removing books is not necessarily an indication of quality, it's indicative of whether I will possibly in time return to them.
These are books I have no need to revisit.
And so, all in all, at the end about 30 books, culled from the shelf. The bookstore takes all but three: "6 Fictional Walks in the Woods" - Eco, "Republic of Whores" - Czech, and "The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck" which I never read but probably picked up for someone at work and failed to give to them. Clearly I didn't give a f*ck.
And this, the lightest of purges, I could go again, go deeper, I mean, there is not enough life left to revisit every book I've read, and while there are those I want to keep - eg: Bernal Diaz - "The Conquest of New Spain", and I have a copy already, but damn, as sideways as my adventures go I've got nothing on him.
And there are others, and I can see a slight unconscious process at work, clear the debris of my learning and the path becomes clear, this is where I am, this is where I'm going, the shelves are due a few more scourings, but it's a start.
Otherwise, the desk, it lends a nice wooden tone to an apartment completely lacking in character. Oak, small, but suited to the space, it lights the fire under my ass to get rid of the rocks cluttering the living room and make the space "livable", after a fashion, it would help a great deal to make some commitment towards entertaining...
As for my writing, it's taking a bit of a hit, I'm out of internet for the month, a week to go before the new plan kicks in, so as time and the library permit...