A whole day of drawing and nothing to show for it. After a break I always have to start at zero all over again and it's the most frustrating thing in the entire world.
Of course I have an idea and of course I don't take small steps. That would be too boring, wouldn't it? To soothe myself step by small step until I reach where I have been before. Instead, I'm expecting one of those (very rare) moments of grace to take place. Right. Now. What? The Universe and all it's connections? Of course. I can draw that. In one day.
Humble? How do you spell that one?
You get the idea. This is what I have been all day. The pits.
Luckily, tomorrow is another day and we're all allowed to start over again.
Fortunately for tonight, everything can be healed and a broken day might be fixed in the kitchen.
There is something so soothing about preparing food. Even now that I'm on my own and don't cook for an entire soccer team of winemakers anymore, cooking hasn't lost any of the sense it makes to me. It's not because I'm sick and can't eat just anything I want, either, I think.
Maybe it has to do with the mechanic motions. Cleaning, cutting... the movements, always the same. The pride in transforming good ingredients into something else with almost no effort at all.
Maybe it's the kitchen itself. I can't remember how many nights we ended up in the kitchen, drunk or sober, numerous and all tangled in one big cozy pile on the floor, or just a few, going through the fridge late at night or early one morning. Sitting on counters, pacing, whatever the moment called for. I guess if you have an emotion to loose or one to acquire, the kitchen would be a good place for that.