Monday, September 11, 2006
watching paint dry.
I can feel the season changing. There's a bit of fog in the air, the sting of autumn. Blank skies. Today I'm spending painting the bedroom walls. White on white. Filling the cracks with fine white paste, sanding down with aluminium paper. Running my hand over the surface to check how smooth it is. Seeing how the light bounces, where it catches on a snag that must be rubbed down.
While I do it thoughts rise up and I rub them down. In the white wall I can see the lurid, vivid dreams of last night fade to nothing.
Yesterday I and the rest of the city visited the church of B&Q, which has no minister. There you can buy just exactly the colours you want. They have a thousand colours, more, shining or flat, each named something poetic, something stupid. We walked past aqua blues and candy dreams and asparagus green. Took the big plain pot of white so heavy you can hardly carry it, brought it home, and now I'm turning the whole house into a blank sheet where the light will settle.
After that, I'm going to start on something else. Probably a book. There's 200 white pages waiting to be filled. Watch this space...