BLAME YOUR GREEN EYES.

By Paul D Robertson.

Water-colours, 100 x 76 cms.

Available for sale

This is of my beautiful ex and good friend Kylie...

Modernist in a way I guess - get me a green desk lamp and black and white checkered floor tiles!

This piece is part of a diptych, the other page is HERE

and you may see them together HERE

And here is a completely unrelated rant I just wrote:

The clocks are mad.
Well DUH I mean

Of course they are. Time is an implication inevitable of the second law of thermodynamics and our own fucked up tragic doomed linear consciousness of course of course

So I mean we build artificial things to alert us and reassure us of its blithe passage if it really passes at all

like ships fucking in the night.

Though it is not that hard to build clocks (this is a lie of course. it WAS really hard and is pretty easy now hourglass anyone?? a GLASS OF HOURS?)

I shall have, sir, a bottle of your finest time.
A long and elegantly tapered Arabic bottle. Warm with some mammalian heartbeat and blood-heat.
In this bottle clothed within its hermetic smoothness: A YEAR. ONE hurtling ellipsis around our Sol (soul? Hm…nah);
This sun, our sun, of whom we are, we you and I and the cat - we ARE daughters and sons… carbon fusion pouring radiation onto the world – spins us weeeeeeeeeee

(check and look I did.. we go FAST…
lying in bed in our stillest stillness we are flying unstoppered and flowing nine hundred kilometers covered distance spanned in every second…

around the SUN around the SUN
one YEAR a bottle a YEAR.

I will carry it with me in a bag stitched from skeins of my own madness and plastic wrapping tape.

And one day I will

Yum yum slurp smack

Just

En-…
(in)
Cased
(case.)

Tear the ancient and dust-gritty cork from the slip of its seal. I will spit the unknowable paper crumbling from my lips.

And I will

Upend

The year.

I will
Suckle
Open mouthed writhing and beautiful.
I will DRINK IT ALL in moments.

And stand and fall and rush and rush as it burns my throat with its ticking and boils searing from my throat

In a thrill of scalding racing firey LIFE.

Drink time and after a decade wiped sheer of ethanol
I SHALL I WILL WITH LUST

WITH WANT WITH ATROPHY ENTROPY AND DESIRE
I WILL, and for once in my fucking life actually literally ON TIME…

GET FUCKING DRUNK!

(I REALLY do NOT mean this literally.)