|Still Life with Traffic Cone|
Not every day can be filled with nonstop thrills and unbridled joy. Today for example. I found it impossible to slog through more than a few pages of Vanity Fair (the novel, not the magazine). I couldn't make myself a latte because the milk frother was broken. The much anticipated DVD of Breaking Bad that had just arrived from Netflix turned out to be from the season i'd already watched on iTunes streaming video a few months ago. Minor disappointments in the great scheme of things, but enough to give the day a vague feeling of edginess and discontent. Even a walk on the beach--which almost always succeeds in curing what ails me--failed to break the mood. It was a little too cool, a little too windy, but mostly the problem was (with apologies to Herman Melville) the whiteness of the wall. For about 360 days each year this very long bench/wall is painted with bright and fanciful images. On Fathers' Day weekend each year, people pay a small fee to paint a section of the wall with their own, often very loose interpretation of that year's theme. In preparation for that event, the wall is whitewashed a few days before the festivities. So today, this is how it looked: the monotony broken only by a red traffic cone and an abandoned pair of pants. Some days are like that.
|Still Life with Abandoned Pants|