In which a Corvid flicks through so many emotions she felt dizzy.
"Even now she waits in the dawn
For the tales she tells, for the gifts that she will sell
For the sight she knows, for a vision that still grows
With the dream in her eyes no one's seen..."
Hello Shamblyland.
I got back yesterday, was kindly fed supper by Matt, talked random for a bit and went to bed stupidly early as all my neurons were already unconscious. This morning there was tea and the opening of many parcels. These mostly contained beads and old dominoes for jewellery making, except for one which contained vodka, bohemian smarties, an antique pipe and some bronchitis sealed in a box covered in tiny TB notices and laudanum advertisements and things- YEY! from spacedmonkey, and that was even more shiny and amusing than beads =)
After that ideas started mugging me like they'd been hiding under my bed in wait. Necklace designs, story snippets and complicated plans for things to send to people by post ('cos they've been darling and sent me cool stuff for no good reason other than they thought I might like it). Given the ferocity of said ideas storm I'm left with the conclusion in some ways that my creative brain sleeps at the Oast and my emotions get slowly wound tighter and tighter and when I get back to Shamblyland and what my neurons nominally consider 'My Nest' then my creative brain wakes up and all my emotions unwind in a small whirlwind of mild crazy. Which was also possibly why there was the being perfectly happy, finding some old book whilst looking for something else and crying for ten minutes... and then going back to necklace-making.
Now I'm trying to finish button sewing on my pirate coat and waistcoat so I can to a photoshoot with them on sunday. Lalala.
*carefully hugs her bronchitis and sings along to songs she hasn't listened to in ages*
For the tales she tells, for the gifts that she will sell
For the sight she knows, for a vision that still grows
With the dream in her eyes no one's seen..."
Hello Shamblyland.
I got back yesterday, was kindly fed supper by Matt, talked random for a bit and went to bed stupidly early as all my neurons were already unconscious. This morning there was tea and the opening of many parcels. These mostly contained beads and old dominoes for jewellery making, except for one which contained vodka, bohemian smarties, an antique pipe and some bronchitis sealed in a box covered in tiny TB notices and laudanum advertisements and things- YEY! from spacedmonkey, and that was even more shiny and amusing than beads =)
After that ideas started mugging me like they'd been hiding under my bed in wait. Necklace designs, story snippets and complicated plans for things to send to people by post ('cos they've been darling and sent me cool stuff for no good reason other than they thought I might like it). Given the ferocity of said ideas storm I'm left with the conclusion in some ways that my creative brain sleeps at the Oast and my emotions get slowly wound tighter and tighter and when I get back to Shamblyland and what my neurons nominally consider 'My Nest' then my creative brain wakes up and all my emotions unwind in a small whirlwind of mild crazy. Which was also possibly why there was the being perfectly happy, finding some old book whilst looking for something else and crying for ten minutes... and then going back to necklace-making.
Now I'm trying to finish button sewing on my pirate coat and waistcoat so I can to a photoshoot with them on sunday. Lalala.
*carefully hugs her bronchitis and sings along to songs she hasn't listened to in ages*