Hey there, How's it going?

My little condo is in grave danger of being turned into a rainbow.  So far, I've done this.

The green looks nice with the balcony cushions. And the green will be especially nice during the winter, I think. The balcony is coming along nicely. There's a nice wooden bench now. And the pansies are finally raising their heads above the rims of the pots. A dinner party for four! Oh...wait...

I've also done this. Ditto the winter thing.

The kitchen is already bright enough. When the sun shines in at its afternoon angle, it looks psychedelic in there. I'm resolving NOT to put color anywhere else.

Instead of painting, I'm going to go back to demonstrating when I need something to do. Today I staged a protest at the Guthrie.

Honestly, if I see another anti-lockdown, anti-mask protester carrying a sign that says My Body, My Choice, I may totally lose my shit.

What's pushing you to the brink? There are so f-ing many things, right?

A Painting and a Poem

I could write about what a surreal day it was in Pillville today. Or about how I cried at breakfast this morning with someone I'd just met when I told her about Dan.

And I might tell you all that. Tomorrow.

But tonight I keep thinking of this painting and this poem. The poem was written a couple of decades before the painting, and probably the poet and the painter had never even heard of one another.

Here's the painting, seen on my recent visit to LACMA:

The poem, from the Poets.org website:

My Light With Yours by  Edgar Lee Masters When the sea has devoured the ships, And the spires and the towers Have gone back to the hills. And all the cities Are one with the plains again. And the beauty of bronze, And the strength of steel Are blown over silent continents, As the desert sand is blown— My dust with yours forever. II When folly and wisdom are no more, And fire is no more, Because man is no more; When the dead world slowly spinning Drifts and falls through the void— My light with yours In the Light of Lights forever!