Aging and OilsWell, I guess I was prophetic. There's so much human extrusion everywhere -- on the walls, on the floors, on the ceilings, in the streets, in the sewers, in the sky, in the rivers now. Not so much on the mountaintops, maybe. After a couple of cocktails in caveman mode last night, some of it actually looked good. One elegant woman, in her late 60s or so, was exhibiting some interesting paintings in a 100 year old Victorian house/gallery midtown. After a lifetime of trying to make a business of it, she retired from her other job and returned to art classes. There she was on the old walls. No regrets. No resentments. Just canvas, oil, imagination, and enthusiasm. And time.
The hands of the clock actually turn around and around in the same place. No need to go anywhere, while it's busy coming.