I spent yesterday painting, only leaving the house as night fell, about 4:00pm. The outside was not encouraging; grey gloomy drizzle, everything robbed of colour. Not even twilight could make something compensatory out of it all.
I came back home, tried to watch television after dinner (nothing on) - and eventually got my scanner working for the first time. This is a remarkable step forward for me considering just how lost I am with computers most of the time. Now I shall be able to scan in artwork instead of photographing it. Means also that if I ever get back into writing I'll be able to print out what I've written. For something to exist I think you need to have a hard copy of it.
I continued painting throughout the evening - it now has a title 'The Great Migration', and should be finished this week. The sense of impending doom and hopelessness that has been following me around since new years day continued to tighten it's grip around me, forcing me to take solace in a bottle of wine.
I went to sleep about 1:00am.
