I'm on my way to the graveyard to gather my ghoul "friends" so we can all go to the Koolghoulfest. Perhaps, if you peer through the mist, you will see us there, heh heh, and perhaps not! But we will definitely see YOU!!! If you feel something "touch" you from behind.............heeeeeheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee don't turn around. You won't SEE anything! HeeeeeeeeeeHehHehHeh

Someone will return here after the Halloween moon sets. Someone! Heeeee Heeee Have a SCARY Halloween! R.I.P. BOOHAHA.........


A collage. Just paper and glue, and paint pens.


Please join me for a cuppa your favorite, and accompany it with this very, very short story. ***Hoping your day is pleasant***
internet photo unknown artist


I'm not afraid of strangers. I'm surrounded by them every day. My friend Lou and I, we sit on the bench down at the corner of 5th and Winslow, right downtown, almost every morning. Lou is a people watcher. He sits there and talks about the expresson on the faces of the people walking by, how they look angry or sad or stupid. He decides who didn't sleep last night, and who was out drinking until 2 a.m. I guess he has a sixth sense about people, or at least he thinks he does. He talks about their clothing too; mentions if they are wearing baggy pants, or dirty shirts, and expounds about a particular pretty lady who passes every morning on her way to work wearing bright, short, summer dresses, her high heels clicking on the shadowed pavement as she taps by.

He describes their smells too, although I have a darn good nose and I don't need him to tell me about that pretty lady's perfume, because it smells like the field of flowers that used to grow behind the little country house where I grew up. I can still remember how the sweet, almost overpowering scent of those flowers wafted on the summer breeze, rushing on unseen air through the open windows of our small home. I liked that smell better than when my mom made brownies, the odor of the baking chocolate causing my mouth to water and that little impatient, squirmy thing that lived inside me hardly able to wait until they were cool to taste them. But the flowers smelled the best.

I always know when that lady is approaching because her soft, flowery perfume precedes her. And Lou, well he gets a little excited. I can hear it in his voice as soon as he spots her. It's like he gets a tickle in his throat and his lowered voice becomes raspy as he takes in what she's wearing today. He talks about her long, shapely legs as if he's never seen a lady's legs before. Well, knowing old Lou as I do for these many years, it probably has been awhile. Neither of us is a spring chicken any more.

This morning though: I started to tell you about this morning and the stranger. A man sauntered past us, and true to his personality Lou began to talk about how this person seemed a little surly, with hooded eyes that looked from side to side like marbles rolling around in an egg cup, shoes untied and ill fitting that sort of slap-slapped against the concrete sidewalk as he went slowly past our bench. Lou didn't need to mention that he was not one of the regulars on their way to their same old regular day. No, this one was a stranger. I knew by the way he walked, slowing as he passed, that he would turn and come back. Lou was keeping an eye on him, never fully trusting anyone, fearful of the unusual, cautious about anyone not in the flow of the morning routine. The stranger shuffled closer to our bench and stood in front of us, not speaking. Lou tensed, and I could tell he was about to say something perhaps a bit rude, when the stranger slowly reached out to me and took my hand in his own. "Sir," he said, "I'm a poor soul. I don't have many material things, and in the winter I sometimes lack a roof over my head, and a coat warm enough to keep out the icy chill. There are times when a bowl of warmth from the soup kitchen and my faith are all that keep me going." As he spoke, he pressed some money into my hand. I could tell it was several bills. "Sir," he continued, "even though I am poor and have none of the riches I see around me every day, I still have my eyes, and that makes me very wealthy indeed."

As he turned away to leave, I moved my red-tipped cane so he wouldn't trip, and thanked him, my heart filling with grateful love. And Lou, well, I knew he had just learned a little lesson about trust and love, no matter how a stranger might be dressed. END

please visit http://www.writersisland.wordpress.com/ for more "Stranger" stories.


Yesterday at work I was listening to one of the instructors tell her students "DO NOT LET OTHERS INFLUENCE YOUR PAINTING. PAINT FOR YOURSELF.
Oh, what a valuable lesson that is! Last week I posted a preliminary underpainting of what I was currently working on. As I was painting, someone walked by me and asked a question about the lips. After I answered, he said...well, maybe you should make an adjustment in the lips, since it isn't (what he asked). As I continued to paint, without even thinking, I made an adjustment. Why???? At the time, I didn't KNOW why nor did I even think about it. So, I adjusted the lips, then of course I had to adjust the nose, and then the chin, etc. etc. to make everything "fit" right. When I got done, the original drawing was totally lost, I was frustrated, and the painting now looks absolutely NOTHING like what I was originally doing, and by the time you read this the canvas will have a new coat of gesso!
I loved those lips! Without even realizing it, I was basing my entire painting around those lips. After hearing the instructor tell her students not to be influenced, I finally realized why my painting failed. I LET MYSELF BE INFLUENCED AND WAS NOT PAINTING FOR MYSELF! And worse, this influence came from someone who can't even draw stick figures! Huh? Am I just duh?
If you are a painter, please heed this lesson. Never, never let anyone else influence your art. Paint only for yourself, and you will be much happier with the end result. And thanks to Charlotte, the Instructor!
Geesh, I loved those lips!

T.G.I.F. !!!!!

This is a very preliminary underpainting of what I'm working on. It's funny how it seems like a painting is coming along fine when you are standing in front of it, even farther back from it, but when you put it up here, you can see ALL the things you need to adjust that you didn't see before. This also happens if you hold your work up to a mirror. Oh, wish me luck. I can see I'm going to need it!!!
Wishing everyone a happy weekend! I'll probably be back one day next week.
And down
down the rabbit hole
I go!


Hey little girl
Look at the stars.
Do you think we can touch them,
Or are they too far?
Hey little boy,
Look at the moon.
Perhaps we can bounce it
As we sing a short tune.
And look over there
At those stars in a row.
Can we toss the moon over?
They look very low.

Hey little girl,
We can play here all night.
The sky is our playground,
The moon gives us light.
Here, my new friend, take my small hand.
I will lead you to paradise
In the Universe land.


I'm trying to make my life blossom. Are you? Sometimes it's difficult...there are so many variables. Life shifts like the sands on the desert and when you think your feet are on sturdy ground, you may unexpectedly sink, or the hot winds may blow the sand under your feet in a different direction and the trail you are following may be temporarily lost. But if one waits until night, and trusts the luminous astral bodies, the way back can be found. Trust the Universe to help you find your way, no matter where you are or how lost you feel. You'll return to your own soul and feel at peace again, when the time is right.

Above is an ATC/collage I made today. It's the first art I have done in awhile. It tells how I felt when I saw the child's face. She is someone real, tho I don't know her name. When I got started, the creativity flowed, and the sand felt steady under my feet once more.

Until next time.....Namaste