Not terribly Creative: Now with more Absinthe!

I don't have anything interesting to post.

Actually, I wrote a song about the recent protests which I think voices my opinion on the state of my country in my own way. I just don't have the stuff to record it though, which makes me very very sad. It makes me so sad I decided to make a drink and forget about it all for the night. 

Here is an unintentional little still life. I've been thinking a lot about things and thingliness as well. In my mind I imagine a project whereby I photograph and document every single item I own. The stupidity and the overwhelming weight of these things, their history, and how little my life means in the context of these objects fascinates me. I used to study art history, and in a sense I can see how much and how little our things say about us. In this picture: 

A cut glass very like my family's old antique set from on of my maternal grandmothers. This is not one of those as mother decided we shouldn't use them anymore. These I think she bought on impulse at some estate sale or antique store. I like them a lot.

Inside the glass is the drink I made tonight. I decided to drink some of the absinthe I bought. The absinthe is green, and usually I avoid the green varieties except the clerk at the new liquor store I found (which sources violet liquor, St. Germain, and maraschino) insisted I buy this one instead because he likes it better. He took nearly twenty dollars off of the tag to entice me to switch brands, so I did. He is right about the taste. It's very good. Anyway, I decided to prepare it in the modern pyrotechnic fashion. Then for no reason I decided to drip some violet liqueur into the bottom so it would have a neat little shadow underneath. Mercifully this tastes very good. Oh, and I used some Perrier instead of tap water because our tap water tastes terrible. I thought the carbonated water might be unpleasant with absinthe but it's definitely not.

Behind the glass is a sort of tiered candy plate that folds up when not in use, and some books that I could probably part with.

To the right is a little sculpture some one gave me as a gift of the fountain from Bosch's Garden of Earthly Delights and the card that went with it. I like it. I'm not much for kitsch or display, actually. Even as a child I didn't really appreciate toys.

There's a ribbon laying across the shelf with a Texas charm on it. If I had to guess I'd say that's my mother's. She's much more of a hoarder than me. I typically keep only things I use and things that are simply waiting with me while I live-- mausoleum garbage. 

Also in the photograph I can see a little ceramic bowl I bought at a craft fair because I'm very fond of ceramics. The bowl can not be used for food because the glaze is leaded, but I used to keep a bit of water in it to display a glass egg that had a beautiful translucent shade when wet. Since I have cats now, I can't do that. 

After writing all of this, I have almost finished the absinthe in that glass. I'm amazed by how buried I am in hateful little objects! 

It would be nice to start clean; but that would also represent such a loss. I love some of our old things, the family portraits and stupid junk. Still, things left in a room like this one, they take a deathly air don't they?