Can't eat, can't sleep, can't write, can't paint, can't sit still. All I seem to be able to do is walk and walk for miles, desperately getting oriented, looking at everything and everyone. I really like it here, but I'm not sure I feel at home exactly. I feel like a stranger.Today at around 930 as I was walking down Classon, a man on the other side of the street said something like have a good day, gorgeous. I said thanks. On my way home around 630 the same guy was in the same place and he recognized me and asked if I had a good day and I nodded and we smiled at each other. It was one of those weird moments that makes you confused and inexplicably quite happy.
The painting is The Sulphur Match by John Singer Sargent. Who has an uncanny knack for browns. We looked at this one in my painting class and my teacher said these were 19th century hipsters, basically.
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