#424

Ezra and I are in a flurry of Spring production, remixing and repurposing the living and working spaces of the household as we paint lintels and repaint walls and fix holes and shit. I'm about to primer up a big old chunk of the living room walls, baseboards, etc. Did some patches over emergency areas where lead paint had become exposed by the bubbling and peeling of a bad paint job. It falls to me to roll up my sleeves and shake the rust from my painting techniques and senses, coinciding with my own rekindled desire to get seriously into representative media. 

Our stockpile of artistically omnviorous materials grows every day. Soon we will have the kind of silo acting as optimal springboard to carefree, confident explorations in the production of collage, sculpture, craft, and design projects of any description that suits our whim. Having enough stuff to go ditty-balls bachoingo is important and experiencing that necessity galvanizing; I am not only saving portions of my own trash and recycling that I haven't given myself permission to in a long time, but actively salvaging from the street and the flotsam of my peers.

Dudes, yes, I think I can say it. I feel better than I have since the advent of autumn last year. 

Dang. That was rough. Thank god for feeling like this now, even if it's bad again tomorrow or the next week. It's good enough to feel ok and mean it.

Whew!

Also, hey. 424. What a fucking classing crop of numbers we've had lately here on Factually Pointless, thanks to the natural progression of positive whole integers. 

--JL