The cold today has run me inside and I’ve taken a nap, ate the last of my vegetable soup, feed the dog more than he can eat and have ended up watching the Oscars. TV anchors have stated that Hollywood would subdue its party scene in respect for the economic crisis in the US. Hollywood also reports that ticket sells are up and have always been up during times of downturns on Wall Street. The run for the theatre box office helps me live in this refuge for those moments in a fantasy. It is an escapism that I grab and liken to a hermit cave dwellers; it’s comforting to be in the dark, and live vicariously through my dreams. It’s a moment I can shift into neutral and coast down hill. Viva Bogart reruns, (doesn't quite roll off the tongue very well, does it?)
My uncle once told me that “the only reality in this world is at Disneyland, everything else is pure fiction.” That was under no particular stress and it has stayed with me since I was eighteen. My uncle was also noted for his tales and misadventures in high school. Too many tales to relate at this time, and in fact this is a pottery blog which I seem to be slacking. This seems to be the way my mind works, weaving in and out of imagery and mindless fantasy, and then all in a flash I’ll be back into a bowl. So, keep up them good pots.