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Description
Oils and some weird stuff. it was sticky. In a VARNISH way, people! Man... i didn't even mentioln sex...

This is a painting i started in 2004 i THINK (i have no memory of 2004 due to getting shock therapy at unusual voltages because there was some trouble inducing a seizure - which is a part of how they work, apparently.) i was more in love than i think i have ever been, and it was this year when i finally lived with her for a few brief weeks. She.. ah hell. it sounds a lot like i am making it up anyway.

but you see. i am not.

only in the sense that i had to learn the events of 2004 from others because they did not feature in my own memory.

she told me she was pregnant, that she lost the child...

she got marrried about 6 months ago. to someone else. duh.

pregnant for the second time in her life. i am... a little too mad perhaps to be much of a father. cuts though... i do not love her, anymore. it is sad, and gone from her, gone from me, and that our lips don't touch, our arms don't encircle each other, and our fingers don't flick peas at each other at dinner... the mundane magic... that is the saddest damned part.

the hands are not quite finished. i have to wait for her fingers to dry...

Description
Oils and some weird stuff. it was sticky. In a VARNISH way, people! Man... i didn't even mentioln sex...

This is a painting i started in 2004 i THINK (i have no memory of 2004 due to getting shock therapy at unusual voltages because there was some trouble inducing a seizure - which is a part of how they work, apparently.) i was more in love than i think i have ever been, and it was this year when i finally lived with her for a few brief weeks. She.. ah hell. it sounds a lot like i am making it up anyway.

but you see. i am not.

only in the sense that i had to learn the events of 2004 from others because they did not feature in my own memory.

she told me she was pregnant, that she lost the child...

she got marrried about 6 months ago. to someone else. duh.

pregnant for the second time in her life. i am... a little too mad perhaps to be much of a father. cuts though... i do not love her, anymore. it is sad, and gone from her, gone from me, and that our lips don't touch, our arms don't encircle each other, and our fingers don't flick peas at each other at dinner... the mundane magic... that is the saddest damned part.

the hands are not quite finished. i have to wait for her fingers to dry...