There was something missing.
Now there isn’t.

Don't forget me

Don't forget me

Don't forget me

Don't forget me

Don't forget me

Don't forget me

Don't forget me

Don't forget me

Hang My Picture hanging on my easel.

Ways of coping living in a tiny town where no one ever/rarely buys/looks at your paintings/drawings.

14. Have a telephone conversation with an 18 year old in which you tell him one of the best reasons for living in the town he lives in is his very own father.
Then sit quietly listening to him while he lists his father’s faults.
Then tell him they are precisely the reason you like his father.
Then listen to him rant about how he hates the town he lives in, how it depresses him.
Best of all, listen to his reasoning for getting out of the town and remember back to when you thought and felt exactly the same thing…about the town and your own father and the reasons for getting out.

I miss my father.
I wish I hadn’t rejected him.
So now I’m going to hang a picture of him in my room.
And try not to forget him.

——————-
Hang My Picture
70x100cm
My drawn version of Tamara and the Martyr’s song, Hang My Picture.
I think now, this is my favourite song ever.
I listened to this song on a loop and cried quite often while I did this drawing.
Bad and good crying.
Buy the song.

Hang my picture

don't forget me

hang my picture

don't reject me

because...

Today’s good thing was a trip, at sundown, to Friesland Farm for eggs.
Last time I’d visited Dawn had told me the story about big-breasted chickens that even though they were indeed free range, in that they ranged free, their tits were so big they couldn’t stand up for falling down.
'They weighed 15 kilos, but I had to give the meat to the dogs. The blood was all clotted up,' she said.
Or something similar.
I won’t eat an egg now unless it comes from Dawn’s farm.

I’m eggist.
****************
The above slide show contains images from my scribbled version of Tamara and the Martyrs’ track, Hang my Picture.

Today’s good thing was plural.

This, working on the above, and, among other things, the sweat-inducing tropical weather.
Made me think I was in a poor man’s Savannah, Georgia or FNQ.

Today’s good thing, which in fact occurred yesterday, was the arrival via Heathrow of Frau Danger, Crochet Queen and World of Wearable Art finalist.

Tonight’s good thing will be an evening listening to/watching Tamara and the Martyrs.
I’m turning my favourite song of theirs into a drawing.

All day I have

listened to the song

Hang My Picture

by Tamara and the Martyrs.

Now I'm making the lyrics into a drawing

I have listened to this track, Hang My Picture*, on repeat all day long.
And then, during the day I heard of the death of a woman (that I don’t even know) from a similar kind of cancer that killed my mother.
So, whereas, once in a tent, when I had heard this song live for the first time, I had simply felt like crying, today I did cry.

*click on the music link to hear it