The Stolen Paintbrush

Happy Columbus day to those of you who have today as a day off. Which is probably an overwhelming majority. Except for me. I’m working today. Because our company doesn’t believe in the importance of celebrating discovery of this continent. I mean this shit happened like ages ago. Enough with the fuss already. And frankly, how hard was it to discover a whole damn continent? As far as land masses go, continents are pretty large. You just need to leave your house and stumble upon one. So it looks like I’m agreeing with my companies policy to disregard this holiday as a lame excuse to skip work. We’re looking down on the rest of you, Columbus-day-celebrators-lazy-bumps.

 

I didn’t do much this weekend because the weather was shit. And I was perfectly fine with that. After the week I’ve had, I didn’t feel like concentrating on extra curriculum activities. Being sad and miserable was the proper thing to do. Because I don’t just go through life. I go through life facing all its challenges head on. I also then spend weeks, and months, regretting, getting mad, getting mad about regretting, and getting mad about getting mad about regretting. You get the idea.

 

You might remember that I recently discovered a passion for painting. I still have trouble comprehending how the stuff I make is entitled to be called art. I usually call it ‘a thing’. And I made two other paintings, let’s call them that for now, to avoid confusion. One of them I started during the week, and finished on a Saturday, and gave it to my special other as a gift. He had no say in this transaction. He had to take it, and act pleased. Because with the rate I’m going, I figured I should start giving these away before I get on the next hoarders episode.

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This was it. It matches perfectly with his bed comforter. It also has a deep philosophical meaning. Find it.

 

And so then a friend saw one of these, because I immediately post them on Instagram, because I crave validation. And she asked if I could make one for her newly renovated bedroom. And I said sure. I was truly happy someone asked for “a thing” form me, without me having to force-gift it onto someone else again. Like my mom should start clearing up wall space ASAP. We went to Michael’s to restock on some art supplies. Because I needed quality brushes, because the ones we bought originally were cheap shit. Because I’m that person now.

 

And it was pouring outside on Sunday. Read perfect weather in case you decide to start making paintings. And I sat crouched on the floor, with my newly purchased quality brush, for 5 hours straight. Or actually it was a newly stolen brush. True story. We got stuff for over $100 bucks, and this brush just fell in with other things, and we didn’t get charged for it. So, we accidentally stole it. Naturally, this is going to be my most favorite brush. Anyway, why floor you ask? Because sitting at a desk would be too obvious. And because I haven’t purchased one of those canvas holders, because at this point I’m still not sure how invested I am in this hobby. Also, I kind of like the whole floor idea. I crouch in  different poses, and imagine this qualifies as some type of yoga work out. I imagine a lot of things. Doesn’t mean they’re true. Anyway, I finished it that day.

 

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Client was happy.

 

Oh, in case you were wandering, my second submission to McSweeney’s got rejected. And it’s fine, people get lots of rejections before getting published. I read it on the Internets. But my blogging soul-mate AlwaysDrunk took it on as a guest post, go check it out. And you know, this was one thousand times better to have it published through a personal connection with an actual human, than just an article submission to some big editorial. Unless, McSweeney’s do do publish me, than big editorials are totally cool again.

 

In conclusion, do chose your hobbies wisely. This morning, my coworker was telling me an exciting story of how she got a new dryer, and then asked ‘so, how was your weekend?’ And I just said ‘you know, I picked up on making these abstract, contemporary paintings, using stencils, and acrylic paints, mostly on a 16×20 canvases.’ No, I didn’t, I just said fine. Because that’d be weird.

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6 thoughts on “The Stolen Paintbrush

  1. I love you, and I love your art. I took today as a vacation day to attend the State Fair of Texas, because Fair Day is always among the best days of the year. Columbus was a dick, tbh. Much better to eat corny dogs and salt-water taffy than to glorify the guy who stole America.
    Chuck Baudelaire recently posted…Mother’s Little HelperMy Profile

    1. Thank you for liking my art!
      Can’t wait to read all about the fair.
      ‘The guy who stole America’ – very well said.

  2. Your dedication to your art is admirable. Salvador Dali wouldn’t paint when it was raining because he wanted sunlight. At a certain point I think he could have invested in one of those sun lamps.
    I see the one you made for the client juxtaposes technology and nature, exploring the conflict between the two against a bloody background.
    I’m trying to figure out the meaning of special other’s painting, but as Freud said sometimes a key is just a key.
    Christopher recently posted…Colossal Bus Adventure!My Profile

    1. I’ll have you know I’m addicted to your comments, and look forward to them very much.
      Special other’s painting means Opportunities: you have the keys, and the locks, but none of them match. In my head at least.

    2. I was drawn by the hotnsey of what you write

      1. Right? Me too. Chris is really special.

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