Alcippe (alcippe) wrote,

I worked to the point of exhaustion yesterday on a new painting, all day and into the night. I had completely forgotten to eat dinner and it was 1am when I found I couldn't keep going. I wanted to but I couldn't, I could barely stand or see straight. For a moment I worried if I had inhaled too many paint fumes, but the windows were open and there was a good cross-breeze going, so that couldn't have been it. I made it to the futon and collapsed, but couldn't get to sleep. I couldn't stop thinking about the painting. My mind wanted to keep going, to keep working on it despite my body's refusal. So I laid there for two hours, going over color choices, placement, shape.. endlessly re-working the composition in my head. It felt a little like I was going insane. Finally the system shut down.

Woke up brutally early and couldn't fall back to sleep. Why is sleep such a bitch? She always stands me up.

I can't look at the painting or I'll just want to start back in on it, and I need to take a break. I've got painter's fatigue or something. The muscles in my back and neck are all tight and I need to re-set my brain so I can start in fresh the next time I work on it.
I've eaten some breakfast, so that's good. I cleaned up a little, and that's good, too.

My older brother called yesterday evening to tell me that my grandmother is gravely ill. He kept going on about it and I just wanted to get off the phone so bad so I could digest the information without having to deal with him, but he wouldn't stop going on about it. I wanted to have a beer and to fix the ugly part on the painting before it dried.

It was a good night and an awful night, and I'm glad it's today now.
Easter morning.

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