This afternoon I faced an organic fork:
I was holding this sorrow Pulp which I grabbed sliding inside myself, she was ready to get bigger, but I took her in time, still benign, I told her to calm down one moment and then I observed her while, patient, she was explaining to me her right to live, resting in my palm.
The fact of being able to make a backward step from the running abyss, a backward step from myself, with all myself, this fact made smile by tenderness; now with the Pulp I can talk in a pretty more diplomatic way, I can even offer her a cup of tea and I explain to her that, to be honest, I'm fine even without her, I have to finish some stuff, I mean, I'm a busy one.
But then she looked at me by that delirious interstice of plea and severity and she convinced me; she remembers me that what we learnt in June, this summer, was to give to the darkness its slice of evacuation, 'cause it belongs as well to the health, to the complementarity, after all.
So I gave heed to her and I made the old good exercise: I ex-pressed myself, I converted the sorrow in value.
This is the drawing I made today:
This is a drawing I made in June:
|(my jugband blues…*)|
These are April notes (they don't have too much to do in this post, but they are sweetly capricious):
And this is a detail from tonight,
you better zoom to watch it entirely,
it's called The Little Story of A Short Ethernal Fear Birth
and I consider it a good experimenting object for my next works:
Special credits for my today's guardianship:
Baby Lemonade, Syd Barrett
*Jugband Blues, Pink Floyd (oh my, all the universe still disappears in electric clouds of fears each time I hear "And I'm wondering who could be writing this song")
The Rainbow Family
Dead Mantra, Dead Skeletons
and my alter Eta: John Johnny John caro.
Good whatever everyone, everybody.
And remember to listen to good music…