Wednesday, February 22, 2012


There is a certain level of calm that has finally sunk in and now it's alright to not know where anything is headed. The plan that I painted was not with my own brush and when I went back to remap the route I ruined the painting using my finger.

After a day of walking all you want to do is sink your body into a bath tub and submerge yourself into the life of Jean Paul Marat.  Your battle cry would be referred to as explosive and your smile deadly.  This is where you become a revolutionary and have the power to stir up an entire society with just one speech. Their concerns become demands and anger unfolds before you the same way you've felt it bubble up inside you. It all sounds very romantic from the solitude of bath salts.

In the morning, there is broken glass on the carpet. The mirror is still standing like a wounded solider reporting for duty. As the general I understand that I have no choice but to rise to the occasion and rally my troops for another day of battle- another day of being beautiful and charming.

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