There are little tadpoles in the pond. Well done, frogs. I will do my part, keeping the water level high when things otherwise dry out. Enough for a full cycle, anyway. Just wish they ate yellow jacket hornets, at the very least as a show of gratitude.
The mules are back. Did I mention this already? Well, one of the original mules, anyway. The other, still stalled elsewhere for a while, has been replaced with a beautiful speckle gray. I'll get photos, I promise. The sun is out and it promises to warm things up. I could use some tractor time. So, maybe if I go out and till the garden, I'll take the camera along.
Should I mention poker? The final table last night at the pub tourney. Again knocked out with KQ. I told myself to raise pre, just like last week's KQ, but didn't. Nice 47off, two pair against my pair, Mr. Big Stack in the SB. No biggie, except I don't like that I didn't keep my promise to myself. (So, what chance, photos?) Came home and read more of Julia Kristeva's "This Incredible Need to Believe," made a "Gist," and went on to tear up PA a couple hours later.
The Gist? Wanna see? No? Okay.
Yeah, I'm thinking about promises. Very close to finishing a sculpture called "The Big Lie." More like long-standing, but temporality is hard to portray, and time itself contains little, if any, aesthetic.
I had a longish talk with a gallerist/artist friend of mine yesterday. Much of what we discussed was good faith gone awry. Someone offering help followed by delays and avoidance. Someone who had acknowledged his good work. Oh, it's complicated, but I should point out that at no time did he feel owed. Help was offered then denied. But he learned a lesson in political capital, and that has some value.
I was reminded of my own venture into that world some years ago. Before farming. Before venturing forth again, promising myself this time it would be different.
And it seems I will be in an exhibit this fall in Houston. But like I say...
(Digression if sorts) Nevertheless, it's too late to stop.