Sketches – 40

Not too shabby.

How’s it going?

Not too shabby, actually.

That’s great!

No. You don’t understand.
I’m trying to paint something that is,
By definition,
“Too shabby”


Remember the abandoned store
I had you stop at so
I could take pictures?


I’m trying to paint that building, but it’s not just the building, it is the death of someone’s dream, perhaps the only dream they ever had… you know, the death of idealism itself, when all our prettied-up images turn into far-too-shabby reality and it we feel the soul-destroying heartbreak of life itself, in all its impermanence, and cherished ideals of our childhood come crashing down around us with the inevitability of the grave and the squalid sort of smell of the worst sort of nursing home, the kind you never really get over visiting, and certainly don’t get over if you are unfortunate enough to end up there. So it’s a building that’s been abandoned, it’s death, it’s disillusionment, it’s everything that tells us that much we strive for is really meaningless. Do you see what I’m saying?

You are unhappy with the emotional resonance of your painting so far.
Maybe more maroon?…

As husbands go,
You are a sorry-ass art critic

As artists go
You are a pretty amazing wife

Nice save

Not too shabby, I’d say

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

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