Honoring David Lynch's wisdom to always have a setup (and perhaps ameliorate today's midday concerns?) by transforming my scrap wood space into a dedicated metalwork shack behind The Shed. Still have to figure out the power situation and add fire retardant blankets or tarps as walls (including over the metal sheets that separate MetalShack fromThe Shed), but it's getting there.
Been having a hell of a time getting myself into writing mode, hence the return of these daily things (finally settled on midday), "What's the point?" being the operative thought – though I have a feeling that's more the result of an all-encompassing emotional exhaustion sourced to the last 15 years. Perhaps it's that I use/d writing as a way to emotionally (and rationally, sometimes) process things and the only rational and emotional answer is I just can't anymore. But here I am anyhow, because what else am I going to do? Current quandary: how do I make my writing side as appealing as the workshop side of The Shed in a way that makes "What's the point?" moot? Notions simmer.
I’ve got a good feeling about this.
Conversation with a good friend the other week made me realize what's going on with my move towards metalwork: I'm redisovering my love for and need of tactile creation. Suppose this love makes sense, given that my entrance into the arts was playing drums (hit stuff and that makes cool sounds) and that my downfall(s) began when I shifted more into the internal, less tactile arts (music composition, especially, though writing can't be absolved of its complicity in my descent into creative schizophrenia). Filmmaking was far more tactile than writing – though since I've also started drawing and cartooning, I'm bringing more tactile sensation to my storytelling (should it survive). And I can't forget that I've long considered accepting the Executive Director position at the NPO to be the biggest mistake of my career: I missed getting my hands dirty too much. Alas, live and learn. Eventually.
What happens when what should be a pilot needs to be a series to improve on an interesting concept but will exist only as a casseroled movie undeserving of a star's talent and boasting the franchise’s most irritating Vulcan character. Disappointing.
Lon's final form has been realized: after finishing the record cabinet yesterday, I found that I wanted an end table next to Orangina the chair and lo, Lon has become that end table. He can literally hold my beer. And not fall over. Victory - especially as this marks my first functional piece of metalwork.
