21.8.17




she had to be an artisan                               
                   an artist wouldnt suffice wouldnt cut it  it couldnt commend her agility her fluidity  her deftness

the scarlet cardinal she depicted was stylised slightly elongated  it gave the impression of flightof diving  a hesitation or thought was there  then it was followed by a sensual blur  a notion of speed 

no small chore given it was a static image
                                 a repose

only a true artisan could accomplish what she did with her momentary flourish



he had seen her go in
                 actually she bumped into him as he was coming out
then he was actually pleased with himself 
                                 he hadnt been rude he still conducted himself despite the many years later in the same courtesy manner he did while he kept house with his wife and daughters and always deferring to their needs not harboring the passive--aggressive sentiment other men he spoke with did regarding a womans toiletry  

he  gentlemanly  laid the toilet seat down again after urinating

a simple act though seemingly a far reach these days 
                                          he had entered Mens Rooms only to find toilet seats liberally sprinkled and carelessly unflushed  unflushed even when someone had defecated

All men are pigs he told his daughters

But youre a man

I am he said I am a pig though not as as piggish some   As if they were born in a barn

Gramma says that

She does  And she also said she didnt raise slobs to be suffered by women


the artisan probably didnt realise her art

some fifteen twenty minutes after she vacated the restrooma unisex bathroom stupid he entered it again to do his clean-up chores as the store closed for the night 

lifting the toilet seat a U-shaped seat that only encouraged slobs directing them to urinate without lifting it  to his right the scarlet cardinal peered at himsurprised him  it was splashed on the ivory-coloured plastic with menses 

he wasnt upset


she wasnt deliberate or vile



then he hoped maybe she was

her cardinal rivaled a Pollock throwing

though she literally threw hers blind





he was so impressed he let it remain he didnt wash it away
AHA
    he wanted it to be an affront to the slobs who would use it later  if they werent slobs he expected they would approach management to have washed off as it offended their sense of cleanliness 

menstrual bloodfor whatever reason disgusted some men

it struck him as very natural


it would be a long timeif ever he forgot that fabulous scarlet cardinal

he was grateful he saw it


1919,  Friday,  18  8. 17
1410,  Monday,  21 8. 17

20.8.17




If it aint Medusa Ill eat my fuckin hat(dont wear a hat so thats an empty threat – dont let that distrack you -- Im all about threats  I can take em  an make em)   

its cumbersome 
         Medusa on the floor  though she averts her gazeher withering-stone gaze while her head of snakes coil an twine snarl an hiss

I irritate them
           an they seem irritated with her that she doesnt or wont fulfill her  her wha    her taskher predilection 
if she doesnt feel it why should she

obviously I would be on her side(if she has sides)  you wouldnt think their protests coming up out of the ochre-tiled bathroom floor could be incendiary or threatening  but they are  their threats roll up my pant legs shiver an prickle my skin an I cant help but wonder why Medusa doesnt lift her headlook up at me with her eyes  stricken me
but I cantI wont look away   

I am aware as I mop the floor time an time again since Ive recognised her visage that her threat remains  that she could easily in an abrupt moment lift her eyes an fix meice me transfigure me into stone  a cheap way to become statuary no Michelangelo wiping his brow in the humid Mediterranean heat sweatingsuffering his hammer blowsangry bits of broken marble biting him   


I understand her despairher loathsomeness  she married Poseidon and infuriated Athena and Athena a greater goddess condemned Medusa to her monstrous life  a lifean adoration begat in love 

love can do that


love can be everything you never imagined  and then in its worse connotations or infliction 

you wouldnt think so
                 your idealism doesnt allow you to think so
but who is truly thinking when first falling in love who has the capacity to annihilate the tender colourful blossom of love with the black blade of reason  rationale

we dont think love has chains  or bitter lashes
                                  it isnt dark  consumptive   demoralising

perhaps thats why Medusa doesnt render me 

her physicality complexion dont put me off  or do I abhor her   she seems to recognise my compassion


thin ice?
         I hope not

1919,  Friday,  18  8. 17
1531,  Sunday,  20  8. 17
Seven Mary Three  Cumbersome  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NjNn4bbbgSw