Muses Missed

I used to love painting. It gave me an escape into a deeper reality. I was open to interpretation on my own terms and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I had three muses who inspired my portraiture. They were my biggest fans and my harshest critics. They all knew my heart and expected the best from me.

The first muse was always represented as the beautiful villain. He was walking perfection except for his attitude and he knew by keeping me locked away, I would produce the most insane, dark depressing pieces. They would look like masterful pieces that when scrutinized were the gateway to tue torture I suffered daily.

The second muse was the lover. He introduced me to streams of color through experiences I could have only imagined. His touch was the catalyst to my awakening. Every piece I've ever painted because of him was hard and rough and gentle all at the same time. He opened my eyes to the mythological and reminded my soul that it was beautiful.

The third was the confidant. He allowed me to tell the secrets on canvas, I wouldn't tell anywhere else. He bandaged every scar and walked me out of the darkness into the tiniest vestiges of light. He reminded me bluntly that I was not only born of my experiences, but that I helped create the best experiences for others.

They kept me swimming in material and reminded me that I could put my heart on canvas and be misunderstood, critiqued, and loved. (remembered).

Drunken advice...

May I tell you a secret? It's just between us. I spoke to a young woman a few weeks back and she asked me how to get in the crosshairs of one of my peers. She met him online and they spoke several times, met for tea and crumpets, etc.

Quick back story:
I met her at a function that my friends and I attended, and realized that she was trying to get my attention. We spoke briefly and I got the vibe she wanted more attention, but I was drunk and was getting my two-step on.

Anyway, she decided that she wanted to get to know him on a more personal level. She wanted to know how to do that. She specifically texted how she could take my place. She met me once and decided I was either replaceable or I was where she needed to be. She wasn't disrespectful or cocky. She asked plainly how does she get Lissy's moniker attached. I honestly said, becoming the friend means, you're the one he never wants. If he's meeting you for nosh and allows you to nuzzle in his fur, you are a prospective something or "other" and your actions determine what level you'll remain on.

I continued by saying that it's better to be upfront and state to him what you're telling me. He speaks english. I'm in no way responsible for swaying him in any direction toward vagoo or relationships in general. My job is to have the bail money ready and to split gas and snacks on the road trips.

I hope my advice doesn't warrant another conversation.