Madrigle

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Sunday, Mar. 13, 2005 @ 3:32 p.m.

What a dramatic weekend this has been and there is no end in site. I've had some of the best times in recent memory this weekend and some of the most stressful, hate inspiring also.

I helpe Yuhayna and Sean move in this weekend and we were all laughing and playing and just enjoying being near each other and for the first time, in what seems like ages, Houston felt like such a definate and comfortable fit. It's ironic that just as soon as I've made my mind up to leave, two of my favorite people return to Houston, and to my very own neighborhood, no less. Monica and Albert were there too, and together we were all just so happy, and . . . right, you know?

Habibi, has thoroughly pissed me off and I don't like the me I've become in regards to him. I feel so hateful, frustrated, and polluted. He's called twice today and I've not even bothered to talk. I can't. I'd not be able to carry on a civil conversation. I sank to juvinile levels last night, leaving him vile, hateful voicemail. Raging against his unresponcive wall of silence. Trying desperately to find a chink somewhere to gain a toehold, with each desperate, obsessive, phonecall doing damage to know one but myself. I hate that he has made no effort what so ever to preserve anything of what I felt we once had. I"m not even sure what it was that we had. I feel used and trampled upon. I filthy wad of soggy tissue on the floor of a public urinal and I hate that I've empowered him to make me feel so and I hate that I can't think of him without hate entering into my heart and I hate that even now I want some semblance of a reconcealation between us. I hope I've learned from this abysmal experience. I was inwardly raging last night from all of his neglect and resolved to get up and paint rather than sit and wallow in my psycological wretchedness, I stretched a 3' by 5' canvas. I was blind to the horendous job I was doing, stretching the canvas to near drum taughtness, and with the VERY last stretch of the canvas pliers, just as the last staple was about to be driven, a enormous rent in the canvas appeared. Suddenly I looked up at the large canvas and trully saw it for the first time since I had started and noted how the frame had taken on a hourglass like shape from my over zealous stretching of the canvas. Poor thing bore the brunt of all my frustrations.

My grandpa is not expected to make it through the night. I've been painting him in russets and greens rather then driving up to see him. It's just how I cope lately.

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birth of stars
Birth of Stars, Acrylic on Panel, 36" by 48" Collection of the artist

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