Marble-tongued

So it's been a while since I last made a proper post. Those of you who have half a brain will know how busy I've been...meetings, more meetings, reading, studying, applying the self to evermore fascinating endeavours. Well, despite the massive attack of motion that has lately swallowed me whole, I have managed to get a couple other things done.
I also finished the central subject of the Mucha copy I was doing, and the surrounding (original) design elements will be soon forthcoming, if I can manage to sit down for long enough to dredge something up.
I had a dream about rock-climbing last night. I wasn't rock-climbing myself, I was watching about thirty boys clamber about on a cliff face, and sometimes, one of them would let themselves fall, and the others would grab him. Then I sprained my ankle.
I dreamt about pixies, too. Not The Pixies, though 'Cactus' has been tickling through my head. No...no, real pixies. The sort that feed off various human energies and will do anything to carry on feeding. The sort that fix all your problems and disappear into your rubbish bin before you can see them, really. But it was a bit of a discomfiting dream, and I won't carry on with it here.
I'm glancing over at my workspace right now, at my palette, with its unusual colours on it. I have a fun time mixing for this Mucha copy, but they're colours I rarely use. For example, I used a minty-green-blue sort of pastel colour, and I used some cad yellow dark, which, also, I don't favour, except in skintones. And I mostly emptied my tube of unbleached titanium. I'll need to run out for some more next Monday before I start my new project.
Oh! Speaking of which. I have a very ambitious project. Remember that grisaille portrait I was going on about? Well, I've started it. I gridded the photograph I'm copying it from, and gridded the canvas likewise. It's going to end up 30x26 inches, which is very convenient for me. Nice how they sell most canvases in the 'golden rectangle,' in perfect ratio. Now, if only I can find an old nautilus shell...
Oh, Lord, someone stop me. I'm on the rampage.
Yes of course. I cut my hair yesterday. It was nearly to my shoulders, in the back, and I chopped it all back up to my back hairline. All that stifling hair, gone. Lovely. I'm sure I wrote a poem at some point during the past week, but I don't think it's worth reading. But...you be the judge. Not you, Dre, you still haven't commented on my Sonnet V.

She sang for absolution
Every night after supper.
And the crazy thing about it was
That she never quite recovered,
Never saved our great nation.

I stood in the cage beside her,
Hung my hat up on a peg.
And I danced all afternoon beside her,
But I didn't draw a dime.
And I guess she deserved it.

Maybe that's just a story for another day.
Come help me burn the flag.
Come help me read the newspaper.
Help me walk,
Help me dance.

My fingertips crack
On these old metal strings.
And my heart broke with her neck,
When they sang, 'Penny for the Guy'
In the streets of London.

I've heard a lot of songs,
But never one so sad as yours,
Never one so bad as yours.
Do you think you'd mind
Performing for the Rolling Stones?