It turns out that it was a timely move to quit being my own Muse. If I hadn't quit and welcomed back The Muse, I might not have noticed the painting that lead to the other painting that seems to be saving me from a shabby plot- in general and in a story for another time.
If The Non Muse were still around, I would be telling him all about it: Insert story about large painting bearing themes of nature and technology. Then I would get to the part about how the hand of a man is placed against a straight black line and it creates a discomfort in painting that I find to be brilliant. Brilliant! And what's more, it reminds me of: Insert story. And: Insert rambling story. And: Insert half-story where I trail off into another story and forget the first story.
The Non-Muse would interrupt me, "Story!" he would say, "Another story!"
Story alert.
I would stop talking and listen to the Non-Muse tell stories. They typically lead to ex-wife stories. I figured that he wasn't quite over it and listened- but if I had known that he would turn out to be the man who threw away my art, I would counted his number of stories told, out loud.
Story Alert.
The large painting caused me to think about this story and more. The painting is not mine. It has nothing to do with me, but there are so many stories of my own in it. When the Non-Muse is not around, I tell less stories out loud, yet they are there, roaming around in my head and landing on my papers, canvases and computer screens. Pieces. The stories are pieces. They are part of the process of creation that a Non-Muse has not yet realized, or perhaps he is afraid of what the whole story might be. He is in a process, much like a painter- at all times.
"We should remember that a person- painting a picture, or telling some other story - is essentially arranging a particular pattern." -Rachel Kice
photo: "Story For Another Time," myself and the bagpipe players I met at the NASCAR track, 2006




