Weirdly, working on a new project has me feeling nostalgic. New project has a character who is an artist, and see, once upon a time I was an artist. I mean, I still am. But once–once–my hands were always either smudged with charcoal or paint of both. Once, I didn’t own a single pair of jeans (or shoes) that weren’t covered in paint. Once, I could look at any color and tell you exactly how I’d mix it on my palette. Exactly. Blue wasn’t blue to me. It was Cerulean. French Ultramarine. Thalo. It was so much more than just blue.

I miss thinking like that. So I’m gonna start painting again.

I hope if there’s something that you miss doing that you’ll start up again, too. Let me know in the comments if you do.

I have books and books of this stuff. Interesting how we return to the same territory over and again. I wrote this excerpt of WB Yeats “The Second Coming,” above which has the lines, “The falcon cannot hear the falconer…. Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.”  Coincidence? I think not.

Oh, and if you’re interested in seeing a few more of my old sketches you can stop over at my Facebook page. 

Rock on, y’all.