just like the one-winged dove sings a song sounds like she's singing

What do you want to talk about? Stevie Nicks, riding the bus or dreams?

*Stevie Nicks: how can someone that sings about lace and doves, black widows, dragons and, you know... crystal visions, pull it off so that I can take it? And love it? I think it's her commitment to a certain flavor of victorian hippie witchiness, her gung-ho scarf-draped microphone stand, her petticoats and leather gloves. Oh-- and her freaking awesome voice. Brother to Stevie, in my book, is Prince. Just as many cliche poetic devices and over-dramatic performances, and I'll eat that with a spoon as well, please.

*Riding the bus: Is there a better place for a mother of toddlers to sit by herself with no obligation to any other task? Even going for a walk or a sit-by-the-water contains a decision about how long you allow yourself to be away. (We're in a high-demand period with our youngest boy, and I'm feeling like a parenting weakling... in case you'd like to know.) A busride has a beginning and an end; no assertive driving needed, and plenty of casual people watching at hand. And where else do you get to meditate on phenomena like Stevie Nicks?

*Dreams: When the dream well is dry, I forget about the pulsing vibrant world beneath the surface. But, Lord Almighty, how I love when they come back and storm my world. Better than any film, because they're so much more immersive. I wonder how many of my painting ideas are connected in some way to a dream I've been given. Lots.