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16 May 2000

Ma had the easel. But it wasn't stable enough to hold a four by five foot canvas (Surprise!), so I've had to improvise. The old bed slats worked well for the cross pieces, but the uprights flex... I can work with it.

I don't remember how to paint. I've covered a large swatch with pale blue and a smaller swatch at the bottom with too-vivid green, and I've sketched the window embrasure in charcoal. I keep asking myself, "Now what?"

I do remember Annie Dillard observing in The Writing Life that we "fit ourselves to the paint..."

I read a really good book last week: Obsidian Butterfly by Laurell K. Hamilton. It's another Anita Blake, Vampire Executioner novel, but this one dispenses with Anita's tedious vampire boyfriend Jean-Claude and the even more tedious werewolf boyfriend Richard. It's all about Anita and Edward, AKA "Undertaker," and their attempt to solve a mysterious series of murders in Albuquerque. Very violent, but... I liked it. I'm only sad that there's no love interest between Edward and Anita, and that in the next book she'll undoubtedly be back with Jean-Claude and Richard. If Richard gets killed off it may be tollerable. We can only hope.

I also just finished reading The Love Song of J. Edgar Hoover by Kinky Friedman. Not the best of the series, but entertaining. I find the way Mr. Friedman's mind works... interesting. I've toyed with the idea of writing to him, but it bothers me that it might come out that I buy his books out of the bargain bins. I got the last two for $3 each--

I just got through talking with Lew. Online, using Instant Messenger's voice mode. Works okay, but we need to get headsets to cure the feedback from our voices coming over the speakers. We were wondering if we could do a conference call thing but, since nobody else was online, we couldn't try it.

Ah, well. I'm off to bed. I start my new job at the John Carter Brown Library today, and, if I go up to bed right now, I'll have some time to read a bit of Hunting Badger by Tony Hillerman...


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