fff#58

sorry for the disjointedness and the lateness of this fff. with no time over the weekend, i wrote it today during work and had to continuously leave my desk and this piece. when i finally went to post, blogger was down. still... it feels good to be fffing. blink... blink, blink... the tv is on the fritz again. without that mind-numbing device to serve it's purpose i'll have to resort to numbing my mind by other means; anything to forget about the day's events. the television being out would actually give me a chance to do some of the painting i had been meaning to undertake. i've had the time but it's often hard to stay motivated when your job involves relinquishing you of your soul as you relinquish people of their money. nevertheless, all i would need for a successful evening was the right inspiration and my paints. getting excited about the prospect in front of me, i light the incense, among other things, and the apartment begins to fill with smoke. the inspiration hits and sends me bouncing around my apartment like a puppy with a new toy. i strip out of my suit (it often feels more like straight-jacket), grab my paints from under my bed and turn to face the four white walls that have contained my creativity for too long and become, perhaps, the greatest irritant in my life. by night's end, those walls will be filled with greens and blues and yellows and reds - just the therapy i'll need to rest my mind and remember what it's like to feel good again. the prevalent smell of herb and incense reminds me of the countless rainy days spent pretending the rest of the world didn't exist - i was happy then, smiling at the colors in my life. after spending the next 4hours sketching the world i was about to paint around me, i grab my first brush and select a color: blue. the anticipation of that first stroke is like waiting for that fabulous orgasm after hours and hours of foreplay. i stand, wearing just my boxer's, in the middle of the white room contemplating which wall to start with when there is a knock at the door. i wonder briefly which one of my possible horrors would be waiting on the other side, turn the lock and go for the handle. the door flies open and two 12gauge-buckshot-rounds pump through my chest. the mafia must had found out i was skimming and decided to do the painting for me. the last thing i catch with my eye, is a beautiful red color splattered across one of the walls. happy with the result, i smile at the color and blink... everything fades to black.