Now this is fun

Now this is fun.  The outside is uncomprehendingly transforming itself to match my paintings.  I like it. Outside in the street there are giant trucks rolling by. And giant dirt lifters.  And concrete saws, and shovels and men in the gang colors of their corporation.  They have painted all their corporate gang symbols on the sidewalks why and even on my grass.  They have dozens and dozens of small flags in the dirt.

And last week they unloaded giant 20 foot long pipes one huge heavy load.   After they broke the street on the other side and finished digging a deep ditch they laid the pipes down there.

A couple of days ago a guy with a tall heavy machine with a big circular saw on it came down the street pushing it.  At the same time it cut through the street on my side and made a deep cut.  And  it spewed out dust and dirt everywhere.

In fact now the dust is everywhere covering every plant every sidewalk all the windows even the inside of the house.  It is all filthy.

And of course I am happy as it seems to me the world out there is doing its best to match my paintings.

They broke the water main last week while they were down in the ditch.  I had to run out and get a couple of gallons of water,  Otherwise we would be in big trouble.

The soil of the gardens is littered with trash.  And more is coming every day.  Especially as we live near the water of one of the great lakes.  And right by a college.  After a weekend the ground swells with the trash and bottles and cans of the college kids.

I begin to feel that the world likes my work and is here to show me an industrial sized work in progress, a giant piece of underground art, a group of artists focused on the thing they wish to make.

And when they get done in a couple of months all that will be left here is the dirt the dust the remnants and tatters of flags, like those left on the battlefield,  the gang symbols spray painted on the sidewalks.

And underneath the street quiet in the ground their blocks-long piece of art will sit there surrounded by the quiet earth.

The water and sludge will flow through the pies in some utterly complex dance,  picking up speed and slowing down, gathering trash and detritus, whizzing round deep into large circular cleaning pools, and somewhere miles away, it will all be dumped into the great recycler,  from which we get our fresh water once more...