Well I can’t present it here cause I don’t have a picture of it up yet. I just finished my first real painting tonight. Almost 4 hours of work. Forget those little test paintings that I just started in painting class, this is the real deal.

I really don’t have a title for the painting nor can I come up with one. I think the simplest thing to do is to number my paintings sequentially or go by date, but I doubt that I could remember any of my paintings by date. So I am forced to find a title. I think I will sit on it for now. I will call it Painting No. 1 or Rocker Cries for the King. It should be fitting.

What does my painting look like? It is hard to describe. Imagine a 11″x14″ canvas. One corner iust a small portrait of a figure that looks sort of like Elvis, leaning towards the middle of the canvas. On either side of Elvis’s head are two large eyes, as big as his head. It belongs to a large face, eyes crying tears of blood. The face is a mixture of many colors. Again, it is hard to describe. You just got to see it.

Actually, if this painting was in a museum, I wouldn’t mind stopping and looking at it. It’s pretty interesting.

How it came to be was an accident. I was just painting. Putting paint on canvas, paint on canvas, paint on canvas. It looked like nothing. Nothing was taking form, for I had no direction or no idea of what I was going to do. At one point, it looked like a flower, where we were looking inside with some petals hanging out, but then I just added more paint. Instead of small dabs of paint, I ventured into larger strokes. Soon, Elvis took form. His ghostly face staring back at me. I fixed his hair, outlined his jump suit. The ghost of Elvis, decayed and hollow, looking back at me.

Now the difficult part, what to do to balance the picture out. I thought of a face. I created a face. eyes of purple, lips of pick and yellow, a unrecognizable nose. The outline of his face takes form, coming out of darkness and gray, and I do mean, coming out of darkness and gray. It’s a very dark painting. Only highlights and some color to add depth. His mouth agape, I added tears. First blue like water, then red like blood. Streaks of long hair came next. Streaks of blue, green, red, yellow, white, magenta, pea soup, teal….and the colors go on and on mixing into gray with some remnants of colors. A masterpiece I dare to say.

Now I am damn sure no art expert will pay my painting any mind. It’s no Rembrandt, no Da Vinci, Michaelangelo, or even Dali. It’s a painting by a lost 24 year old.

I took quite a few pictures of this painting when I was finished for I promised my first painting to a friend. He might not like it, if not, I’m taking it back.

Looking at it now, I am in awe, in shock, in despair. It is intriguing yet sad. Tears of blood. Death so imminent. Almost like Jesus on the cross.

Now, my only problem is deciding which way is up. Should I have it up the way I painted it, or how it lays now, on it’s side. Decisions, Decisions. It’s going to take a week or two for the paint to dry. I hope I will have pictures of my work up.

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I thought about writing a poem just now, as a follow up to last night’s entry. But nothing came. No words flowed. No feelings need to be expressed. No motivation to rhyme. Maybe this is my poem. My poem of prose. Our maybe everything I write is poetry. Every word I write is a lyric to my soundtrack in life. But I digress and I jest. My words aren’t poetry. My words are just me.