Observations (in the raw)
I look out the window and the desert is all faded yellows and browns. At least those are the predominant colors. The skies are whitened with high clouds. The world, my world, seems in transition.
Oddly, I always seem to slide into a funk after Halloween. Forgetting that this happens every year, until it is upon me. Maybe it's just a bit of grief for the passing of October. Can you grieve a month? Why not. So, I sit here with weighty decisions hovering over my head. (But that's another post. If ever.)
I guess this is just the blues, before shifting into full holiday mode in less than a month. Holidays are ok, in and of themselves, but it seems they are way more complicated than I remember. Again, I am touching on another of many things that plague my thoughts today.
I guess I came here to bitch. But even that seems way too much to ask of this day. So, I will watch the jack-o-lantern shrivel in the afternoon sun and maybe put on some soulful music, something old. Then I'll grab a pencil and draw, something new. Drawing works wonders for the soul. Always has. Trust that.
Pat Greenwell is an artist. A painter and sometimes poet, he has been searching the New Mexico desert for several years now, looking for lost possibilities and probable intentions.
"...mostly stream-of-consciousness stuff, you know...