hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, let me see....................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

a difficult moment this
blog?
might have to rethink the whole premise here.
"reflections on the process of making art" That can stay.
Perhaps.
The "process" has changed though.
The mechanical routine of attending for regular sessions in the studio is not the same as as making art.

Metaphor:

Climbed up the side of the Mesa looking for the cat (named Cat) at dusk tonight. Sun set suddenly. Wine, Bourbon, Beer, dope itself, set in just as I heard from down below: "oh, here she is....!" Almost all the way up the steep slope I stop, linger. The light is fading fast, but I feel safe here, amidst the crags, with the drop below me. I lie down. The slope is so steep that I feel as if I am standing up, almost. I fall asleep. When I wake up, it is completely dark. A fragment of the moon is shining in a corner of the sky; a few distant houses in the landscape have light, or reflection or refraction of a distant source looming faintly -- perhaps a microwave door open, a monitor with the the desperate appeal of Active Desktop Recovery blazing in the darkness. I crawl through the murk on all fours, grasping at Bear Grass, at Juniper and Pinon branches, edging North and up somewhat, proud to remember that ahead lies a path that will take me down safely. But, when I reach it, I notice that standing up is not quite a normal condition for me. I stagger down, sitting and groping when the slope becomes too steep 'till I reach the house...
The computer is still on.
I make this entry.
Goodnight.