NB:
If anyone has found my art impetus please tell it to come back to Yours Truly. Like now.
Events as of late have conspired to keep general creative endeavors from being within reach. But, in prep-mode, things are organized, the car is clean (outside), the sketch books are full, art supplies are at the ready.
Suddenly realized in a panic today that I have forgotten to register for the NC-based HGTV dream house, and I promised Loomis I'd be diligently doing so. I informed Lauren over coffee at SPoT last week that I will possibly be hanging out in the NC mountains until the utilities get shut off as I'm sure HGTV is not footing all the future bills and who in hell can heat a 1,200,000 s/f home.
Now, suddenly, the slogan The road to hell is paved with good intentions simmers in my mind like that Coldplay song was much earlier this fine springy day (and who can truly enjoy fifty degree dead-of-winter days, warmest in over a century, and not ponder how we are roasting away the atmosphere with CFCs, SUVs, BYOBs, and that NYT story detailed how an environmental whistle blower/freaker-outer has been quieted by Bush et al). And, speaking of perfect homes, home improvements, paving jobs, somewhere, I imagine, someone has fabricated paving stones that read 'good' and 'intentions' for some alternatingly, hilarious garden times.
As I waited to speak to Lawyer Tom today to wrap up smatters I caught up on the fandom vortex, the weekly journal of amnesiac fun fact: People mag.
YT is both an inhaler of pop culture and mag addict yet somehow the whole Eminem/Kim story fell through the cerebral cracks. The reconciliation that tops all somehow slid right by my astuteness. I think I might be the only person I know who saw Eight Mile, in the Shiney Apple, and dug it, and (super-bonus points)photographed him as he was ascending.
So how did I just not know.

Love, sometimes you just do not ever know.