I wanted to post a picture of a coloring book page I found laying prostrate on the floor the other day. But I couldn’t get my act together and find the camera. It was one of those days when you become lost in the grit, sinking, sinking, sinking. . .and then you see the coloring book page or the bunny in a funny position and life becomes a whimsical plot.
Objects do this to me, they speak to me. Well, not speak persay, but give me pause. . .ok, sometimes I think they speak volumes, but for the sake of argument and to save my diginity for now they just stop me in my tracks and make me think or laugh. You’re familiar with my recent story of the poisoned apple, this sort of things happens almost everyday with any variety of things in my life.
Its usually something bizarre or disturbing. Like the turquoise bunny that turns up in the darndest situations. I’ll be walking through the hallway and wham! there’s the bunny sitting poised for an escape and I’ve caught him in the act. Or he’s being crushed by a box, pinned helplessly. Or he’s strewn across my coffee table like some sort of centerpiece reminding me of this fleeting season of my life where adult things constantly intersect with kid things. . . sometimes welcomingly. . . other times more forcefully.
I photograph the bunny for proof. Sometimes I paint him(and sell him on thehappies.etsy.com). Maybe I’ve read the Velveteen Rabbit or seen Toy Story too many times. Maybe I need help. Or maybe I have evolved into a creature of greater understanding. Yes, let’s take that last option!