I don't know who the guy is in this photo, but I really love that sky. Photo cred to Taylor.
Having snagged a cozy cubicle in the library, I'm just watching people straggle in with desperate faces and book lists, attempting to salvage something of their wasted Reading Break. Or maybe that's just me.
Last night I had the craziest dream, featuring prison time, running from the law, road blockades, underground houses, boys with white, painted faces, and a roommate who generously agreed to hide us. When my alarm went off, I realized that my blankets had been thrown clear across the room, and felt...dissatisfied, somehow. Almost as if there was an underlying message that I hadn't quite been able to grasp. But it was probably just the pizza before bedtime.
Yesterday morning was mostly spent in a small art store, re-framing some water damaged paintings with the help of a soft-spoken fellow named Rob? Andy? Anyway, a whole bunch of people came trouping in, each of them with 5-6 paintings under their arms, clamoring for help. The rain was a-pouring down, and most of us looked like drowned rats. Cue the older, perfectly coiffed lady in a cream-coloured suit and silk scarf. "Please, everyone, respect my workplace. You are dripping water, and that is dangerous!" Anyway, my paintings look great, I have a newfound respect for the colour plum. And a special raw wood frame has been ordered to fit an acrylic piece depicting a storm over Lake Laberge; all that remains to be found is a suitable varnish.
Got to talk to the folks in Revelstoke last night. It was one of those conversations that had to be finished by e-mail, as his cell phone died midway and all the important stuff was left until the end. Anyway, a mid-February trip there is in the works, and the excitement is running high, even if it is a good 3 months away. We all need something to look forward to.
Sarah, have you read 1984? It's one of those books that is a pain to get through, but once you finish it, you recognize references EVERYWHERE, it's crazy. Orwell at his finest, or worst, depending on how much you enjoy depression.
Also, for the more general public, if you have not yet read Thomas King's green grass, running water, get on it.
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