Don't know what I'm doing, but doing it anyway.

I tuned in to one of my half a million channels yesterday and caught a showing of Bottle Shock, wonderful indie film starring some of my favorite unsung heroes like Alan Rickman, Bill Pullman, and a current fave, Chris Pine, about a wine competition in France about 40 years ago that was won by a tiny winery in Napa Valley. Anything that distracts me from my current ennui is welcome here. So I took my little vase of violently purple irises and put them between me and the TV, on the kitchen counter, and slapped away with my heavy little hand, and here is the newest Trader Joe bouquet immortalized. Can you see that I don't really care very much what happens here? Or perhaps, I am just letting God do the painting. Still aching inside, don't know what it is all about, but it seems to be old wounds in active bleeding stage, and the only respite I get is when I am working at my "art". Of course, still not sure that is what it is. I am in illustrious company there, because none of us "artists" really ever feel that what we do is really "art". Not worrying too much about that at the moment. Just trying to keep from sinking to the bottom of the pond. Just treading water. Can't seem to swim yet.