šŸƒAmanda22Janeā¤

Ghost Writer
2016-05-17 05:22:09 (UTC)

Art and Tiredness.

Miss journalling, so I had to come here and write today. It's Tuesday evening - 17:29.
I'm really tired because I've been experiencing insomnia for several nights in a row. Averaging getting off to sleep around 3:30 am - 4:00am. Up between 8:30 am - 10:00am. This is not good...doing my best to tire myself out every day. Seems to work at getting me tired, then I get a "second wind" on account that I'm doing a shitload of art every day.
My landlord B. who lives in his barnhouse next door has rented me a lovely big room to do art in.
I started a large piece last week and have nearly finished the sketching stage. I was just over there in my artroom and B. came home early from work and I was busy sketching still. I started to panic because I don't like intruding on his privacy. The good thing was that he didn't know that I was there! It's a big place and the room is on the opposite side of his driveway and the door he uses to come inside. I started drawing faster then he started getting busy in the bathroom and I thought that he was going to have a bath! So I quickly grabbed all my things, snuck out the door quietly and took off like a frightened rabbit!
Guess I was wrong..., he's at the rental next door doing some work.

Had to sweep up the grape litter twice today, it's coming away from the vine thick and fast still...thën a fucken bird shat on my arm. The only thing nice about that was it's shit was warm. I'm freezing on account that I've had very little sleep these last few days. The rotting grapes smell like wine ;) makes me feel like having a wine...

I'm in bed now because I'm tired and cold. Have the heater on. My feet are stained with grapes as I go barefeet most of the time and they're blocks of ice. Best put some socks on.

While I was still over at B's in the artroom, I saw a bunch of schoolboys at the speedway across the road climbing over the big gate. Not sure that they were up to anything...maybe a bit of mischief...who knows. They were noisy though.
There's a distant view of the nearby hills from that room and as I took a break and gazed out at the scene, I started to cry. How much stronger do I have to be for my little family? Or myself for that matter?

Life is hard for me. It's hard for my grandchildren and lots of others too...a moment of painful reflection saw me return to my work at hand : a piece of art called : Faith, Hope & Charity ; reminiscent of French poster art from the forties. It contains three female figures and hand-drawn lace, text and fine art design. Oh well, now I feel a bit better. Praying more too.
Must start writing my book soon...one serious work of art leads to another serious work of art...how about that.

Just for the record, art is not all divine hearts and flowers. It's fucken hard, serious work too.

God bless. Amanda-Jane. XXXX.





Ad: