I asked Paul if he wanted to make a statement and he told me to use what he has in his profile:
MICHEAL’S WORD PAINTING
By Artist Unknown
“It carries a certain up-right deportment, wouldn’t you say?” They had sat down on a bench that faced the artwork. Vanessa studied the reflection in a glass partition, ten or so feet to the right. It was this ability to view the pieces from alternate perceptions that they loved when coming to this museum; well, that and the third floor utility closet.
Shem continuously ignited her ambivalence, blowing it to smithereenies and opening wide swaths of ‘territoire d’imagination’.
“Given the elasticity of the lines,” she turns frontwards and leaning over to her right, right up next to Shem, so as he can see it also, runs a pointed finger in the air; a kind of semi-arc, “neither there,” she swings her arm back and forth, “nor there.” She starts to hum, while still gently flowing her waved motion, to and fro, hum a hum, hum hum, to… and… hum de… hum… and… fro…
Shem turns his mouth to her ear and whispers, “Like a silence of the winds, the deepening response turned casual?”
Vanessa’s ‘la dee da’, nonchalance is dripping into radiant, little, glass puddles on the floor.
Shem continues in a soft, measured voice,”Seven veils quintessential to the very core, in a slow, simmering ash, billowing hence?”
Her glistening tempora is swathed and bundled abound.
“Causes…” He holds the ‘ess’ sound; slithering, slipping, sizzling, “effects?,” Again he lingers the ‘ess’; silent, soothing, seismic.
Paul is a long-suffering Aston Villa FC supporter.
Leaving On A Jet Plane
Who’s Shooting Who?
McClaren (a collaboration with Beth Rosengard)
A Room Full of Mirrors
…and it was written in the heavens
V for Victory
St. Vladimir was a Dancing Man (…or so it was said)
TumbleWorld: The Naiveté of Homageable Immanence
Hoop It Up