staring at roses

Making fun of Teabaggers. Hilarious. I love the guy with the ‘Obama’s Plan=White Slavery’ sign. What astute political insight; a conversation with him must be delightful. 

Bill Kristol: Wrongiest of the Wrong

Julia came by for dinner last night. We had a wonderful evening. She showed me what she’s been working on in her sketchbook and I was shocked to see studies for an image that looks like one I’ve been turning around in my head lately. Her natural sense of composition is developing quickly. 

Kenny is in the hospital with an infection. Wulf and I are going to go visit him tonight or tomorrow. 

There’s been a lot of bleak going on lately but I think I hit the bedrock and bounced. I had a deep conversation with a friend on Sunday night where I surprised myself with the words coming out of my mouth. I’m not ready to share it here, but I think I have the makings of a new sermon. This morning I got up early and stopped to get roses for my secretary because I completely neglected to do it yesterday; with a scissors I removed the leaves and thorns and achieved a very pleasing aesthetic balance. I was helping a friend out with a play over the past few weeks and discovered that I have a knack for arranging flowers. My thoughts lucidify when I prune the same way they do when I paint.

More later. I’m thinking of you.

3 Responses to “staring at roses”

  1. good morning winston. We are looking at 80 degrees here on Saturday and Sunday. I plan to walk the trails behind my house and try my hand at gardening. glad to hear you are well…enjoy the beautiful days ahead. – L

  2. I forgot to mention for I’m a clown
    Chicago’s mayor hath declared Thursday
    talk like Shakespeare day in this our fair town;
    Jests and sidewinks shall be more fancy today
    and our contemplations be considered
    more finely than contemporaneous
    verbiage could ever be glistered;
    This sonnet of doggrel is not precious,
    a freely spouted ejaculation
    of whimsy nonsense and my open hand
    singing across the nation in elation
    to you because I know you understand
    Happy birthday to the Bard immortal!
    Sing a toast to his never ending revel!

  3. And good morning to you, my darlin’.
    I look forward to seeing your garden
    and walking the paths through the wood
    drenched in sunlight, surrounded by life,
    this is as vital as water or food
    green and blue and free of strife
    days that are to come are joyous and bright
    spangled and glowing in a golden light

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