Wednesday, February 25, 2009

This is not my beautiful house



Storm approaching. I can't protect my family. I don't know what to say to old friends I no longer love. I want to be able to drive, and get into my car and drive into the hills. I want to write good stories. I want to live somewhere flooded with daylight. Surrounded by grass.

I am painting on a dark ground, today. Burnt umber, layered and layered with purplish red-black. I am working on a story, another one about that thin, burning fear that threads its way through my days. God damn it. Please rain.

9 comments:

Craig Sorensen said...

The rain is a great equalizer.

The darkest shadows come with the brightest light.

Load up your brush...

Nikki Magennis said...

Hi Craig,

Bizarrely, now the sun is blindingly bright although the sky is still dark. (Uh, I'm not talking in metaphors!)

Something about the atmospheric pressure before a rainstorm sends me absolutely skittish and overemotional. Is that just me?

Anyway, am off to paint! Cheers!

Craig Sorensen said...

Oh, it's not just you Nikki. The sun cutting beneath storm clouds is something my family calls "Craig Light."

Nikki Magennis said...

You have your own light, Craig! That's fantastic. And what a lovely description - sounds like the start of a poem.

'Sun cutting beneath storm clouds'

Erobintica said...

There must be poetry in the air today. It's like I can see the painting. And the comments about "sun cutting beneath storm clouds" - that is a rare and beautiful light.

Neve Black said...

Wow, Nikki, just wow!

If you haven't already done this, please have a book of Nikki Magennis poems published. I think you're amazing.

Nikki Magennis said...

Hi Erobintica and Neve,

Yes, it does seem a poemish day today! Maybe Shanna's lovely poem inspired me - sorry can't link am actually typing over my bloody painting

and have just fallen off my chair

wish I was joking. I should stop multitasking, it'll end up killing me. And there's paint all over the keyboard

Alana said...

Nx,

Right. We can't protect our families, certainly don't need to say anything to friends we no longer love, or otherwise. Sometimes silence is . . . preservation. Something. You're beautiful. I know the feeling. Thank you.

Nikki Magennis said...

Thanks, Alana! I'm glad it struck a chord - not glad for the feeling, but, well, you know what I mean.