Ozmandias Calling

I wonder about living in a foreign country -the idea behind the film "The Passenger" has always intrigued me-where one needs no excuses, simply disappearing from one place (down the rabbit hole) and reappear as a completely different soul in another.
The thought occurred to me when I was in Egypt-but in a romanticized version: ala Paul Bowles in Morocco. It's so easy to dream. The truth of the matter would be a bit harder, as I know I could change myself to a degree and leave a lot behind, but the artist would still be with me as would my love. In short, I'll need to do this in the next lifetime. Shucks.
But traveling back (in memory) is not the worst thing. In some mountain-top town in Sumatra, listening to the Muezzin's call, I can still see the gigantic moth flitting around the aura of one of the few street-lamps. Looking up and walking was a true challenge as the cobblestones were so irregular and there was always the threat of knocking over a charcoal burner and inspiring the wrath of one of the locals. One of my other favorite memories was coming down some gangplank or other to a Thai island (Phi-phi?) and slipping and falling into the water-how or why this was memorable I can't say. But somehow it's filed with the good stuff.

Adventure.
Wouldn't it be great to momentarily put on another life like a change of clothing?

Rocks

When I was a kid, I delighted in turning over big rocks-I'm sure this was to the dismay of all the little critters living under them-just to see what I could see. It was always a surprise and this kept me amused for most of my childhood.
Driving along this morning, I realized that I still have fun doing that. The rocks have become the avenues I explore in my work. And the amount and kind of rocks available are only limited by my imagination and ambition.
It's an apt metaphor, implying no need for a huge intellect or any advanced training. Just the will to do it-and as I've stated so many times before, it's something I'm bound to do: a blessing and a curse (although here yours truly is playing down the negative).
Also this morning, I thought that my recent activity with paint and "canvas" might just click this time: that I might just be on to a new way to act and think about the two dimensional that has escaped me most of my life. This would be a real gift. I've been chasing the concept of painting forever-and not once have I felt that I "connected" with the act.
What's different? I don't know-and since I'm going to be thinking in two dimensions for  some time now (This past week, I signed up for a Monoprint class at the local community college), I won't "look a gift horse in the mouth".
I made this elephant….