After much indecision, I finally decided to go out painting—partially cloudy and a little rain at times…
Thin pin-point creaking of a few crickets.
As the sun goes down a dense blue haze comes over the earth – a chill in the air –
Noon split the clouds, revealing a blue-green west. The clouds have thunderish shapes. They seem painted to the sky...
"...Dandelions are rife..."
...for example in radical innovations such as the “Moth and Thunderclap,” which I get a thrill from every time I look at it, but which has made me wonder, “Is this going too far into the abstract world?” John seemed “bowled over” by it in fact it probably was his favorite of the years work.
I feel happier than I have felt in years…. I’m going to give you more sounds and dreams and—yes, I’m going to make people smell what I want them to, and with visual means.
I have forgotten these idealistic lands to the south—sun-beaten thunderheads at noon! To awake some morning entirely refreshed, to walk out barefooted in the dewy grass & walk eastward in the dusk over a strange land to meet the sun—
A little of Beethoven. He was deaf. I have sound ears, pretty good eyes—all my senses are well developed even to several others not mentioned in the physiology. Yet I admit the possibility of failure sometimes. I contemn myself.
The days are cold – The afterglows are yellow; a blueness pervades the air – light blue smokes goes up stagnantly from some chimneys –