Last evening, I think I actually felt the onset of sleep for first time in absolute ages. This is all new to me, but let me describe it, so I can realize it right away when it happens again:
I'm lying in bed, it's very warm and I feel surrounded by nothing but my comforter and heat; it's almost damp, but I'm not sweating. All I see is the color of burnt sienna and paynes gray. I feel myself almost as if I'm looking at myself in a darkened room in the third person. This vision just slowly drifts away, and I don't remember anything else except dreaming a most beautiful dream, and then waking to my alarm... not so much refreshed, but with enough gusto to actually walk over, turn if off, and start my day successfully. I don't know the last time that actually happened. It's wonderful. I wish I could have PJ Harvery just say, 'with the most wonderful boy in the world', to you, right now, just to have the way she says that line, get you in the right mood on how it felt for me right then.
I wanted to get up early to get a good spot in figure painting class; the stragglers always get a spot far off to the corner, where all you ever see of the model is maybe a cooly darkened hip and like a chin, and only if it's oversized. Today, I got the most glamorous spot, with just perfect foreshortening. It must have been stellar, since my teacher sat right in front of me and I had to adjust everything to compensate. The model for today and at least another week is Ericka who is just drop dead beautiful. Almost too beautiful to muck up on, so I may not tear this painting in half. She's a new model and won't pose completely nude, which is odd since... well, we're in an art college; art students draw and paint nude models, it's a standard, incredibly boring affair. Well, usually boring. I was more stoked to paint than I have had been all semester and the time between 8 am and 3 pm (yes, I paint throughout that time, negate an hour for lunch) flew by, and I wanted more.
I went out to try to get my car tuned up so it doesn't break down in route to Sin City this weekend and pick up contacts since I'm blind without corrective lenses of some kind. If you don't wear glasses, think of everything more than 8 inches away being totally out of focus. Now, think of going to art school like that. It's a good circumstance for one or two paintings, but after that, it gets old - the whole, not being able to see, thing.
The tune up place wasn't taking any more cars today, and Jack told me he isn't going to make it to Las Vegas with me. I mentioned the trip to Penelope, who may be down... but if not, the Hell with everyone, I'm making the trip alone and I'm going to have a time, believe you me.
After more boring things, I decided to do another three hours of figure drawing, so I went back to school. I noticed there was, what seemed to be white paint on my 3 foot by 6 foot painting that was hanging by the door of the painting studios. It was this.. semi opaque.. sort of white, liquidy dried up liquid. It basically ruined the painting and I was a little more than pissed, as I'm planning to have it shown at the student show and have it win all sort of awards and prizes and recognition and commissions to swanky art galleries in NYC and so on and so forth. I took desperate measures.
I got out my mineral spirits, a rag and my green, radioactive handling latex gloves and proceeded to rub the white off the painting. The painting itself is acrylic and should be impervious to mineral spirits, but if the white... whatever is organic, it should come off, no problem as the mineral spirits eat anything that's in its contact, including my brain in unventilated studios and classrooms (read: all of them). The white stain was impervious to my efforts. I was getting ticked off. I took off the gloves and just starting picking it off. My guess was the white was also acrylic and acrylic on acrylic is basically a for life seal. It's the same sheath of material once it's dried.
Being the idiot I am, and wanting comic relief, I randomly spat on the spot, while someone was talking to me - this just... beautiful huck of saliva and rubbed some more. Miraculously, the spot disintegrated on contact, flaking and came off with just the slight movement of the room air.
I was speechless. Right before I spat the resolution of spit, I had some coffee, Starbucks Coffee. At the moment, Jack is painting an SS figure, holding a cup of coffee, underneath a huge Starbucks Logo. I didn't know wether to spite Jack and show him what good comes from coffee breath, or, wonder what the Hell coffee does to my stomach if it takes off suspicious white, milky, drippy stains off paintings when even basically turpentine can't lick it. This was all too much and I went figure drawing.
Julie was the model and Julie has a wondrous body, everything is elongated and boney and it's just a real blast to draw. I have a major inferiority complex having to do with figurative anything, which means after this semester has ending I'll be one of the best in the school at the subject and will feel barely rectified from all that I'm still feeling right now. It won't be apparent to everyone, but I'll be getting over it by doing about 6 hours of extra figure drawing a week and it's going to be a major strain. I guess nothing good (takes cums off | comes) cheaply - cept spit.
I got out my mineral spirits, a rag and my green, radioactive handling latex gloves and proceeded to rub the white off the painting. The painting itself is acrylic and should be impervious to mineral spirits, but if the white... whatever is organic, it should come off, no problem as the mineral spirits eat anything that's in its contact, including my brain in unventilated studios and classrooms (read: all of them). The white stain was impervious to my efforts. I was getting ticked off. I took off the gloves and just starting picking it off. My guess was the white was also acrylic and acrylic on acrylic is basically a for life seal. It's the same sheath of material once it's dried.
Julie was the model and Julie has a wondrous body, everything is elongated and boney and it's just a real blast to draw. I have a major inferiority complex having to do with figurative anything, which means after this semester has ending I'll be one of the best in the school at the subject and will feel barely rectified from all that I'm still feeling right now. It won't be apparent to everyone, but I'll be getting over it by doing about 6 hours of extra figure drawing a week and it's going to be a major strain. I guess nothing good (takes cums off | comes) cheaply - cept spit. 
