A while ago, I asked y’all to name the painting, and I liked The 13th Squirrel’s sugestion best - Acheron @ Sunrise - but wasn’t comfortable with the fact that there can be no sunrise over Acheron. The river is identified with the Epirus river in Greece that flows underground in several places, and because of that I propose the title Epirus Sunrise. Not quite the same ring. Eh, I’ll think on it some more.

Meanwhile, I wish I had a digital camera, as the newest painting will not fit on the scanner. So here is a detail of it. The original is 12″ x 16″ and features an earlier painting bolted to the canvas, nails, rope (which I may burn off), and acrylics. It’s called “Building Something Up”, from a John Dendy song title with the same name. The lyric is “Building something up is better than/tearing something down/I do believe in love/and that’s why I don’t need you around.”

Meanwhile, I have bolted supports into the top of my desk so that the laptop lid does not fall. The hinges go for around $95 on eBay, and I don’t have a stray $95 right now. So I paid $5 at Ace Hardware for the parts I needed and have a stationary laptop now.

Which is why I did not upload a Radio Dystopia setlist, because I won’t be able to do my usual downloads show. Çest lá vie. But, if you plan on listenig, you can email your requests. Remember, the show’s on tonight at 10 PM MST

Contest - name the painting
Originally uploaded by love not fear.

Acrylic. Done sometime late last month.

Deconstructed poetry from an inactive blog. Inspired by Jessica Simkovic, written by Marc.

I was in New Hope, PA back in 2000, and I stumbled upon a box of old photographs at a sidewalk sale. I bought them, and paid more than I wanted to for them. It was worth it, though. Many of them are incredible. Some of them have shown up in collages that I have done or ‘zines on which I have collaborated.

This week, I drank Kettlehouse growlers with Rachel, and as we sat looking though the photographs, we experimented with using them as jumping-off points for writing. We agreed to choose one photograph individually, and then we would both write for ten minutes (it became twenty) using the chosen photograph as inspiration.

She chose the photograph featured in today’s post. I will include only what I have written, as she took hers with her when she left. In the coming days and weeks, I will post results from the same excercise here. By necessity, the writing takes place longhand, however, I have done no editing in putting it here before you. Comments/criticism/complaints etc are welcome.

Shaney Takes a Photograph

I could feel his hands on me. Shaney was laughing with her camera and her floppy hat and I felt his hands touching me. He was holding me. Tight. The sun was bright. It should have been a perfect day in Spring.

“Okay, now, smile!” Shaney said.

I wish she could see me. Take her camera away and see him and the way he was touching me. I didn’t want Shaney to take our picture. Not because I’m not pretty. I am. He always tells me I am. But I knew when she took the picture he would take me back up the hill to the house.

I was glad my back was to the house.

That way I could run if I wanted to. But pretty girls don’t run away, do they? That’s what he told me. Up at the house. When he would touch my hair.

I knew he liked to touch my hair. And his other hand always touched his belt buckle underneath his newly pressed suit jacket. His hand on his belt buckle. He wanted to touch my hair.

So Shaney took our picture. And the sun was bright. And when I cried they said it was because of the sun. The sun in my eyes. But I liked the sun.

There is no sun in the house.

In the house there is no sun and I can’t see his face and he pretends not to see my tears when he touches my knees. When he holds my dress.

And Shaney took the picture and he pulled me to him and he whispered in my ear and his breath was too hot on my neck.