It’s been one of those days! A tough cookie that won’t crack and bites you in the noodle bowl kinda day. My ointment for this ill is to slap myself with a bit of colour.
When I was a child, I was shy-shy-shy. Painfully shy! I would not speak to anyone but my family. My mum, having failed in many attempts to prise words out of me in public resorted to blackmail.
Nairobi has a wealth of Indian snack shops and one of my most favoured treats were these sugar coated fennel treats that were readily available in such places. I would force myself, through sweat, blushing, hyperventilation to speak to the shop keeper to buy these colourful drops.
Speaking of colour……..
I have been actively engrossed in this vocation of making clouds.
After much consideration and tapping of my calculator (to look convincingly clever), I have come to the conclusion that the way forward in this endeavour is to create moulds out of colourful blocks of plasticky stuff.
I am not expecting to be nominated for the Nobel Prize. So while I wait for that elusive whack of genius to blast me into a shiny level of consciousness, I shall fill my ears with some choons:
The creepy in me is what’s wrong! I have been twitching/aching/dying to get my claws on this book.
One man’s collection of anonymous American halloween photos dating from 1875 – 1955 further commended in my mind with it’s introduction written by David Lynch.
// Listening to Dreams by Roy Orbison:
A candy-colored clown they call the Sandman
Tiptoes to my room every night
Just to sprinkle stardust and to whisper
“Go to sleep, everything is all right”