Little boy, tonight you came into my room before dinner and saw the dogs roaming around.
You are very observant, and weeks ago, you noticed the thumb piano I had brought from Boston and hung on my mirror. You found it days later and started playing. You played it tonight, sitting on my bed.
You saw that I had done some Mousetraps a few nights ago (they lay drying on the floor). And you asked to do some. I cannot say no to you.
We sat on the floor and I tried to point out the exquisite grain of the wood which create magnificent horizon lines. You decided to take my gloss enamels and pour paint and smush two flat sides together to create a Rorsacht blot. One looked like peanut butter (brown and yellow) and one looked like lime (blue and green).
Now, I use tiny brushes. I chose Mousetraps for their small size and ease of storage. But I fear your father will throw yours out the next time he cleans. And I fear you will use up all my supplies.
I am careful to brush away the excess fully and use it for the next canvas; you allowed paint to drip and coat the surface fully, so that it takes hours to dry.
You are certain of food regularly, to the point that you will onlt eat foods that won't make you throw up (I fear you have a VERY sensitive stomach) pretzels and cereal and pizza and eggs. That's it.
I bought pita chips and cottage cheese and hummus and seltzer. I eagerly eat hamburgers when I am out with friends because I don't allow myself meat, or anything that costs money.
You made wallets out of paper and colored masking tape last weekend for the huge piles of coins you are accumulating. I am running out of paper and plastic and my bank account will be so empty by the time the Monkees convention rolls around, I am thinking about ---. But I have NO health insurance, so that's that. I think about how sad it will be to pack to move back to my mother's house. A failure again, but I cannot find a different possibility. I miss you already, kid.
So even though I was cringing, watching you pour all my gloss aqua blue onto paper (graph paper!!), just because the bottle allows you to squeeze it. You squoze it in a dance, a creation of gesture-not pigment.
And I miss you already, even though you are only asleep across the hall.
You are very observant, and weeks ago, you noticed the thumb piano I had brought from Boston and hung on my mirror. You found it days later and started playing. You played it tonight, sitting on my bed.
You saw that I had done some Mousetraps a few nights ago (they lay drying on the floor). And you asked to do some. I cannot say no to you.
We sat on the floor and I tried to point out the exquisite grain of the wood which create magnificent horizon lines. You decided to take my gloss enamels and pour paint and smush two flat sides together to create a Rorsacht blot. One looked like peanut butter (brown and yellow) and one looked like lime (blue and green).
Now, I use tiny brushes. I chose Mousetraps for their small size and ease of storage. But I fear your father will throw yours out the next time he cleans. And I fear you will use up all my supplies.
I am careful to brush away the excess fully and use it for the next canvas; you allowed paint to drip and coat the surface fully, so that it takes hours to dry.
You are certain of food regularly, to the point that you will onlt eat foods that won't make you throw up (I fear you have a VERY sensitive stomach) pretzels and cereal and pizza and eggs. That's it.
I bought pita chips and cottage cheese and hummus and seltzer. I eagerly eat hamburgers when I am out with friends because I don't allow myself meat, or anything that costs money.
You made wallets out of paper and colored masking tape last weekend for the huge piles of coins you are accumulating. I am running out of paper and plastic and my bank account will be so empty by the time the Monkees convention rolls around, I am thinking about ---. But I have NO health insurance, so that's that. I think about how sad it will be to pack to move back to my mother's house. A failure again, but I cannot find a different possibility. I miss you already, kid.
So even though I was cringing, watching you pour all my gloss aqua blue onto paper (graph paper!!), just because the bottle allows you to squeeze it. You squoze it in a dance, a creation of gesture-not pigment.
And I miss you already, even though you are only asleep across the hall.
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