Knock Knock Knock.
I hear rumblings and thrashings from big, galumphing creatures behind the door. I try to peak through the curtains, but all I see are the shadows and silhouettes of varied and strange creatures. They’re having the greatest party I’ve ever not been invited to. I’m knocking on the door with hopes that my gate crashing will be accepted. I mean I have no recourse if they don’t let me in – even if it is my own house. What do these creatures care if little old me wants to join in the party? They’re having a fine old time on their own. Still, I’d really like to go in. I am drawn inexplicably to this place. I am drawn time and again. Because, I’ve been to these parties before. I’ve drank the wine, danced on the tables and made-out in the closets. But I keep losing the password. I keep misplacing the directions… even though it’s my own house.
Still, I’m going to keep knocking. Someone’s got to come out for a smoke some time. Anyway, I’m still getting some shades of good stuff, even though I’m on the periphery. I can still hear the beat of the music, muffled though it is. I’m confident that I’ll get in, if I do the leg work.
That’s why I’m going be sketching every day, at least once, for the next month. Here are last night’s and this morning’s offerings.