Nothing Gains

The surface abrades. It's the nature of things, the outside weathers. Even very hard faces deteriorate. Anything organic returns to dust and is blown away. Hard rock doesn't stand a chance against the agent of time. Everything depletes. I almost decide to stop writing, because it doesn't matter anyway. Picasso and those late angry nudes. Drubbing breasts and a slash of honey pot. I have to go back to bed, none of this makes any sense. Falstaff declares he would rather be a weaver, and I agree. Lovely drive into work. Stopped twice to drag dead deer off the road, one was still warm, and I could have salvaged a hind quarter, but I didn't feel like field-dressing and butchering as a way of starting the day. Jumped out of the truck at the traffic light going into town and cut of a teasel seedpod. Very interesting, the spikes (?) are quite hard and I can see how it could be used for carding wool. As soon as I got to work I phoned in my paint order, two gallons of Cubist Gray, they have it on file, told the idiot person, Jason, that I'd be in to get it after lunch. Wasn't ready, their computer was down, couldn't find the formula, the mixing schedule, the recipe, whatever paint guys call it. But, of course he hadn't called with that information. So had to go back to the museum to get the sticker off one of the nearly empty cans, go back to the paint store, and now there's a lady ahead of me that has a serious paint problem. She'd bought a gallon of expensive exterior enamel paint to paint the fake shutters on her house and it wasn't covering in three coats. She had spent all week painting shutters. It was clearly a bad batch of paint, and she should have been spray-painting the damn things anyway, because of the louvers, but it was bad paint, I got involved enough to go back behind the counter and dip a stir-stick in it. I don't know what it was, but it wasn't exterior enamel, which has now become a very expensive paint. I told Jason just to mix her another gallon out of a different batch (they were coded) but he called his boss first, who told him to give her a gallon from a different batch. I intended to paint today, but I never did. There was always something else. I'll go in tomorrow and paint, everything is prepped and taped, a couple of hours should see it done. Shoot the shit with TR and D. I'll need whiskey for the week-end, tobacco and papers, a loaf of bread.