My own headspace. My own inability to get out of what seems to “help”. It’s habitual. Like a drug. He’s a drug I can’t escape. My heroin.

My life. My wife.

Lou. He’s your bard.

Sweet irony…


Painting The Beautiful Muse

Oh, just look at him! There are so many favourite images I have of this man!

When I move…then THIS will be the image of him I will try and paint.

It’s been a long while since I spoke like this, for want of not wanting to embarrass myself in front of potential prying eyes, but…

Sweet Jesus and the baby orphans! Jim Kerr you are one beautiful, beautiful man! I mean…I damn love you as a human being, a person. I adore you. But there is an aesthetic that just blows my fucking mind. Like…SERIOUSLY! I’m just….in awe.

I think it may well truly be an affliction. John Grant, when he talks of his song Where Dreams Go To Die, he talks of this thing of just…seeing the aesthetic beauty in someone and it kind of takes over. Like…well, he talks about it in relationship terms…skipping elements of the phases of a relationship when you are strongly infatuated with a person’s aesthetic and physical beauty. I mean…I get it. I really…really get what he means with that song.

It isn’t just for Jim back then…although I freely admit it is stronger for then…but it is still present for now. No wonder I’m rendered damn speechless! Lol.

Anyway…that’s enough embarrassment for one night! If I can even BEGIN to turn this into an actual painting once settled in a new place…well…I’ll be ecstatic. Oh, I will never, ever have the talent to do him justice. Ever.



Reasons To Be Cheerful – Parts One, Two, Three!


Whenever I feel down (which, mercifully doesn’t happen often) or whenever I doubt myself, (THAT happens MUCH more often!) I will read Jim’s reply to this post and pinch myself until I bleed (I wouldn’t actually do that…I’m just being a tad OTT! I’d pinch myself, DEFINITELY, just not until I actually bleed).

I still can’t believe it’s real. That he said something SSOO wonderful TO ME about my stuff. It’s just…there are not enough superlatives in the English language for it.

Beyond all the silly fawning fangirly stuff…beyond me finding him utterly beautiful…there is that artist appreciation. The wordsmith…the songwriter, giving ME praise for my art.

My “muse”, I suppose it can be deemed, loving what I do.

It leaves me dumbstruck…and almost blasé.