So Much Blue

And though I missed my lover, I was not sad. I was satisfied. I was different.

You know', I said, 'I have come to dislike museums.’ 'Why is that?’, she asked. 'It is where art comes to die.

The lie felt good because I had taken control of the narrative around me. The

Every morning Will and I would canoe out into the middle of the tidal pond behind the house and sit and watch the ospreys hunt and return to their nests. Once we even got to see a young one fledge.

That’s doesn’t sound so bad,” I said. It didn’t take a genius to see this was not a good proposition

I take friendship very seriously. If you are my friend and you need me then I will find you.

I had a mathematician friend tell me once

The real sadness was that I drifted away from my wife and children because of alcohol, but instead of finding the current back to them when I ceased, I camped out on an uncharted island in the middle of myself.

To say that a painting is like a story is a pedestrian utterance, not altogether untrue, but uninspired, though that hardly stops people from making such invidious and unwarranted comparisons. The painting that was my life was static, hardly a story at all, moving but with no moving parts, changing but without alteration.