Drying Tyme

I'm afraid I've got no pictures today. The canvas needs to dry. Yes, it's acrylic, and they pretty much dry in like an hour, but not this time. I'll be doing oils and oil-pastel over them, because I like it wet. I mean, I like the wet-on-wet effect of oils. (Free Bird!) And I like how forgiving they are. They let me fiddle. Tweak and modify. You can really play with them, (Freebird!) changing things up over time. Going back in and altering something you did the week before. But I want those strong background colors, and I don't want the foreground details to melt and muddy into them. (Freeberd!) So, I have to let it dry for at least 24 to 36 hours. That way the acrylic will have completely set up, and the linseed oil won't make it peel. The stiffer brushes won't scratch at the acrylic then, either, and (Play FREEBERD, man!) that'll let me really build up the... (FREEBERD! FREEBERD! FREEBERD!) ...build up the... something building... surface building... Will you please quit shouting "Free Bird"?! I'm trying to paint here, you freakin' artless tools of the mainstream! I'm trying to emote! And all you can do is drown me out with your slurry southern-fried mainstream jokequest! It's old already! It's freakin' old already! Leave me alone!!! You cannot fuck with this canvas! This canvas takes all it's equipment on the bus! (Play FREEBURD, MAN!!! FREE!!! BURD!!! FREE!!! BURD!!!) *Sigh* ...Only one way to make this crap stop.



...If I leave here tomorrow
Would you still remember me?
For I must be travelling on, now,
'Cause there's too many places I've got to see.
But, if I stayed here with you, girl,
Things just couldn't be the same.
'Cause I'm as free as a bird now,
And this bird you can not change.
Lord knows, I can't change.
Bye, bye, its been a sweet love.
Though this feeling I can't change.
But please don't take it badly,
'Cause Lord knows I'm to blame.
But, if I stayed here with you girl,
Things just couldn't be the same.
Cause I'm as free as a bird now,
How 'bout you?
And this bird you'll never change.
And this bird you can not change.
Lord knows, I can't change.
Lord help me, I can't change.
I can't cha-a-a-an-a-ange.
Lord, I can't change.
Lord, I can't change.
Gonna fly high,
Wanna free bird, yeah.
Free bird, yeah.
do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do
4 x 4 x 4
And we're climbing a stairway to heaven!
When I Say "Dance",
Inagodadavida, Baby.
This one goes to 11.
I'd like to say thank you on behalf of the group and myself,
And I hope we passed the audition.

It's Karma. My poor grandmother. We were in Sweden, summer of '90. Long hours driving through the Fjords. I was in the back seat. I had a walkman, with about 3 tapes. One of them had "Free Bird" on it. It was perfect music for just staring out the Diesel-Volvo's window. And I sang along. Softly, to myself, or so I thought. Until about 9 minutes into the 3rd consecutive rewind & replay, my Grandma turns around in her seat and says very sternly "I'll change you!"