I check my snail mail once a week. Sometimes more if an item is expected, but usually once a week. Generally it is full of circulars and ads that immediately go into the recycle bin after being sorted to make sure nothing of importance to me is in there. You know what ads I mean – the flimsy paper ones for nearby grocery stores, or the Pennysaver.
I felt like it was about time for the mailbox to cough up something good. After sorting through today’s mail – at least 30 circulars and various bills – my hunch was right. Score! Officially renewed zoo passes, September’s Juxtapoz issue, and a postcard from La Familia de Carley. AWESOME.
It really is the little things. Anyway, after that thumbs up, I headed to the Tax Assessor’s office to get some files assessed, and then off to Balboa Park. Mmmm, Balboa Park. I’d forgotten how much it reminds me of a labyrinth.
Today wasn’t crowded, but it was fairly warm, so that gave me an excuse to walk very slowly and take lots of photos for future painting references. At some point next month I hope to start work on a mural, so I’ve been collecting resources and references. The biggest of my projects currently is 2.5′ x 3′, so the side of a house (about 25′ x 20′) is going to be a serious challenge. Not to mention stucco has a way different texture than canvas, so things will get interesting quickly. My friend has offered to cook me some gourmet dinners in exchange for artsying up her wall, which is a nice bonus.
The park was quiet and provided me with about 50 photos – just snapped them with my phone, so the quality (depending on if I remembered to change the setting) is sort of everywhere. Here are six of the shots.
Overall, it was a nice day. Things were all gravy, until I saw the girl in the wheelchair.
She was having some sort of fit; some sort of breakdown. Not the kind where you’re pissed off because someone took your parking spot or the shoes you thought were on sale actually stopped being on sale *last* weekend, but the kind with huge eyes and the hysterical weeping just about to happen. She was mumbling something and shaking. There was a man in front of her, bending down to put his face close to hers and holding onto the front arms of her chair so she couldn’t get out. I’d like to think he was trying to comfort her or talk her through whatever, but a horrible feeling crept up my spine and made me think he was hurting her. Maybe he met her while she was alone, having some episode and was trying to help. There was a clinic and also a police station nearby, so maybe she was having a panic attack just before going in or leaving. Maybe he knows her really well, and she throws fits just to get attention. I don’t know.
I do know that a close friend of mine very recently had a uh, technical difficulty involving a psychotic episode, and I know that after researching what the hell that even is, there are no words to describe how awful it must be. Said friend isn’t able to be visited or contacted quite yet so there is still a lot of sitting here feeling sad, frustrated, worried.
I hope both the girl and my friend are okay. I hope I can do something.
Right now though I can’t do much of anything except make art, so that’s what I’m going to do.