at the pioneer cafe

"No colours except green and black the walls are green the sky is black (there is no roof) the stars are green the widow is green but her hair is black as black. The Widow sits on a high high chair the chair is green the seat is black the Widow's hair has a centre parting it is green on the left and on the right black. High as the sky the chair is green the seat is black the Widow's arm is long as death its skin is green the fingernails are long and sharp and black. Between the walls the children green the walls are green the Widow's arm comes snaking down the snake is green the children scream the fingernails are black they scratch the Widow's arm is hunting see the children run and scream the Widow's hand curls round them green and black. Now one by one the children mmff are stifled quiet the Widow's hand is lifting one by one the children green their blood is black unloosed by cutting fingernails it splashes black on the walls (of green) as one by one the curling hand lifts children high as sky the sky is black there are no stars the widow laughs her tongue is green but her teeth are black. And children torn in two in Widow's hands which rolling rolling halves of children shriek roll them into litle balls the balls are green the night is black. And in a corner Monkey and I (the walls green the shadows black) cowering crawling wide high walls green fading into black there is no roof and Widow's hand comes onebyone the children scream and mmff and little balls and hand and scream and mmff and splashing stains of black. Now only she and I and no more screams the Widow's hand comes hunting hunting the skin is green the nails are black towards the corner hunting hunting while we shrink closer into the corner our skin is green our fear is black and now the Hand comes reaching reaching and she my sister pushes me out out of the corner while she stays cowering staring the hand the nails are curling scream and mmff and splash of black and up into the high as sky laughing Widow tearing I am rolling into little balls the balls are green and out into the night the night is black..."

This is an excerpt out of Salman rushdie's book "midnight's children" I'm half way through it and it has bound me into it's amazing web of writing. The above writing is when the main character is in fevor, and it is strangly, frighentinly beautiful.

This is me, taken by a friend " Andy " see his blog on www.microphen.blogspot.com It was taken a few years ago, and I don't think it really looks much like me, which is probably why I like it I think, or maybe it looks like a younger different me that I don't know any more?

This is my art blog, I will share with myself, and whoever else takes the time to see it my work, thoughts and writings and also writing of those that inspire me. You will likely come across musial lyrics, book quotes, random thoughts, my own poety and stories, as well as my photography. I encourage you to see, as so many of us go through this world blind. So go on, take the time to observe, and to absorb, even those things that you find uncomfortable, or outside of your current beliefs or understanding... you may just learn something and become a better you... and I encourage you to share a comment on this blog too, so maybe I too can become a better me.


Jodi