He's Alive!

It's been a week, sorry! Will do better next week, but I haven't been idle, I promise.  At least there is that.  I've had a 'mixed bag' of experiences this week.  A weird-ish week; the kind that feels like one of those fuzzy and at times uncomfortable nights where you know you've been dreaming but can't quite remember what about, except to say that you're feeling a little frazzled.  Well, my week's been a 7-day version of that. And then again, in the same way those nights are quickly forgotten, I've had a few eye-opening moments this week that have made me feel positively re-born.  If you are finding it difficult to follow my thoughts - then you have utterly understood the kind of week I've had.

Let's see, I'll try to explain, if you care to read on.

It started with the Sunday papers which I tend to continue reading the whole of the following week.  It turns out an artist I had thought long gone from this coil of monotone is actually very much alive.  I felt like I'd been given a second chance at a bad interview or something.  Well, maybe he isn't VERY much alive, but there is a pulse - he's in his late 80s.  I refer to Frank Auerbach, an expressionist and figurative painter whose parents (German Jews) sent him to London during WWII as a child where he lived in a boarding school.   They themselves didn't make it out and died in camps which may explain why some of Frank's paintings have (for me) an unsettling energy:

I mean even his landscapes - look!

The colours are bright and the whole picture says summer but to me, it makes my stomach churn a little.  The brush strokes or something.  I love it and yet it makes me very sad.  Anyway, I know he is alive because he reviewed an exhibition in said Sunday papers, by 'extreme realist' artist Alice Neel.   I'll let you colour that one in for yourselves, but I recommend it to anyone who likes weirdos.

It's nice to know he isn't dead, just from a humanitarian perspective but to me, a person who tends to get into things long after they were fashionable - yeah, that's me - well it's like finding out Jim Morrison isn't gone but running an organic cafe at the end of my street or better still, finding a packet of Maltesers at the bottom of my handbag.

To change the subject, I've also had a couple of stabs at opportunity-of-a-lifetime roles - the only ones I will apply to from now on but more on that as and when.  I'm just glad I'm at this stage (job-hunting) after so much recent upheaval.  My yoga classes are set and the marketing is underway.  I shall dutifully report back on how all that goes. 

Most incredible of all this week, I discovered how to place cosmic orders.  Definitely more about this next week as I'm in the testing phase though I warn you, as much as this subject deserves its own blogpost, I intend to be fairly reserved since I truly believe talking about stuff like that, as if it were a children's story sort of devalues the whole thing and leaks precious energy - that said, I will share.

And finally I bunked off school with The Lish in unabashed anti-estblishment celebration of sunshine and friendship a.k.a a playdate with one of Lish's fellow ex-pat Canadian friends during which time I realised (odd that it took something as simple as this) that being a parent is about the walk to the park, not the swings or the slide. 

And now, I must go for I have pancakes and bacon to cook.  This is about the pancakes and bacon, and not the cooking.