Sanibel Art Gallery» Watercolor Art

Watercolor Art

As my boyfriend Michael took us to their place in a gray Honda, I told my weekend, "At the party, I shave all of the right half of John Next Door, while he was naked ... But that was't the worst part! "

Michael responded cautiously, eyes on the road, right?

"No, the worst part was Esther took off his hood, and now everyone who sees the video for the whole town knows it was us! Never will agree to do performance art again - its not subversive, it's embarrassing! "

"Ouch!" Michael opened the door to my side of the car and tried to push me out. I knew he was joking because he was still in the seat belt, but I think it was the reaction I wanted.

I'll never higher that history, or get such a strong reaction from a listener in again. I'm too calm and stable. It sucks a stand-up comedy perspective.

The problem is this: I'm puzzling, happily married. Believe me when I say that it did not intend for this to happen. I come home every night to two cats and a house with prune roses. I fry a veggie burger with tofu cheese and sit on the couch. Later, my husband comes home and joins me. We discussed how well blow to our four hours of television weekly award, read, and argue that the shift is to find the bills in the stack of coffee table (it always turn JIM). I am asleep by 11:00 hours and out the door at 7:30 am. What these phrases can not show is how wonderful it feels? difficult to show how happy I am made to sit at my desk and looking out the window at my husband, making a TV stand from old pieces of birch.

I miss the old wild days of waking up different places, find out what that was nearest subway stop, and wending their way home, usually with a headache the size of Idaho. There was much to turn on the thread my friends and I always surprise each other with what he had done the night before.

I spray painted the lines of "Buckaroo Banzai" on the walls my old apartment. "I feel so broken, I want to go home," still sounds exactly right. My friends and I were asked to leave for a lesbian bar dance too much with the boy band from Brazil. I often spent in my hammock on the roof, and awoke to the sound of an empty bottle of Riunite Raspberry rolling on herpes zoster. I decided men around age 20 had many advantages in the short term and some long term problems. There's a reason why practice should not walking over subway grates on hot nights.

Now, the woman on the road ever stopped to smell the boys dancing stops to smell the garbage collection, a tulip back, the nape of her husband. It is so peaceful and easy as that, a sound of turning outward to a more inward hum. I'm so out of proportion in my marriage as I was in my hood one, but the stories are less interesting.

I Attended most conversations with new friends, smiling and laughing. "Wow, that's outrageous!" while boiling to tell my stories, to show my credibility. But these are new friends, and no good place for me old stories. I am not having X every weekend, I'm doing my aching arms shaking Slug and Snail Death around the bed in front. There is no undo surprised laughter Service laundry, unwashed windows and too many books. I continue my day to day mining for drama and going short.

My husband is funny, sweet and best kisser, but never shaved bare by a piece of performance. Never missing a Tarot reading because of a conflict they were having. He never tried to push me out of a car. Our savage love is not cocktail conversation.

Case in point: Valentine's Day. I came home and discovered that I had left the house postal, various reports written on each one, covering our courtship, romance and marriage 'so far. In the past I had written, "the future is capricious, but our love is true. I love you. "This is not what I had expected. No passion sentenced or screaming while chasing a bus does not run through of heather to Laurence Olivier.

So why am I crying and smiling? But look, these cards are the photos of San Francisco, they look like cuttlefish, with marks of light watercolor brush. He deceived me showing you what I liked in the book. "Let? S take turns making marks on the back of us like, just to see. "Then they pulled all that I loved and wrote about them. One of them was in the front door, and another recorded in a drawing of our friend Esther made us dance, and another next to where we buried our kitty. It reminded me nine years of flirting, kissing, tears, losses. How strong I am bound him.

I'm going back to performance and festival performance? I swear on my cards would not. But come, tell me your wild stories, and tell you some other quieter.

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