I'm in my room. I bought a set of sheets from the Northern (a general store kind of place) that are bright orange in that tshirt material. So it feels like I'm sitting in a can of orange crush, typing away. It's really warm here today. It rained for the majority of the day but I think the sun has come out. Who am I kidding, it never goes away.

I miss the dark. I miss the night.

I recieved word of a tragedy about a week and a half ago. I was storing all of my paintings at my cousin's place. He isn't the most responsible person on the planet, and the company he keeps leaves much to be desired.

I should have known better.

It seems his apartment was broken into, things stolen, things trashed. I guess you know the end of this particular story. I lost everything I had created in the past 6 years. Not a large volume of work, but it was all I had to show for any creative genius I had shown, regardless of how minute it seems now. They were all trashed. Apparently one painting remains, which also happens to be not one I'm overly fond of. But I guess one is better than nothing.

I was numb for awhile. Unsure of what I was feeling. I feel disconnected from the actual paintings because they aren't in my face every day. But I feel deep down inside, that I have suffered a great loss. And I'm sure at some point, it will resonate.

It will resonate. It just isn't....right now.

Labels: loss, mistake, mistakes, paintings