Suffering Creative Anxiety: Bingo Bolger-Baggins
I so want to try making something realmy
but after the experience
I had with cleaning up my last one, I am truly afraid
to try. And then, how I almost ruined
things with a'maelamin . . . it's just rather intoxicating when I start playing with . . . energy is what it is, I suppose . . . but that was frightening
, even if we did manage to get things
back on track, my love and I.
And I am worried about Uncle Sennie. Grandmum told
me how distraught
, and I suppose I noted it but thought he was getting over the Melkor thing and just needed a little time, but I realise
now, it's more than that. Though I am really not quite sure what it is, actually. And he seems to think he needs to go away
. I should remind Tiger about the cottage
up on Lake Evedrim . . . maybe a romantic weekend there would help? I miss his enthusiams--his writings and paintings and stories--he doesn't do any of that anymore--I should have realized from that something was very wrong. But I suppose it's something he is going to have to figure out for himself.
Ivy, on the other hand, seems to have settled into our little smialhold nicely
, which is lovely to see. Melba's been a bit mopey though . . . I think she has concluded
Primula is not going to return her ardent feelings, and I can not say I see any hope of it myself. Primula has been keeping quite to herself of late as well. But Essy has stayed
on with us for now, who has been quite a welcome addition to our abode.
The sky has been quite an unusual shade
lately. Rather delightful actually. But my imagination keeps going back to a place in my memory that is just begging to be given new substance. And it doesn't want to be ignored, but that's just what I am going to do. And keep doing. For now. Current Mood: preoccupied