The central point to being central

Centers on centipedes

And cents to the euro.

Simmering sensibilities

Snuffed out in a blaze of ignominy. 

Fiery, I fire thee.

Flair, eee, nowhere there.

Incandescent, senescent, werewolf, aargh!

Bloated, but noted in blood.

I have the foggiest.

An inkling.

A whiff.

A hint.

Incisive, decisive, resizing, postponing.

Included in your bill of fare,

Splotches of red, yellow and hair,

Indigestion, redirection,

Bespectacled reticule in red velvet.

Not to mention red, of course.

Greenery grows when not dry.

Growing grapples with ground conditions.

Crabapples are not always green.

Grinch is green.

Grendel is not.

Oh, butterfly!

How you flutter by!

You flap and you float,

You shudder and flutter.

Oh butterfly!

How you flutter by!

Wondrously wafting windy wibbles.

Blown balloons born aloft.

 Callous neighbours,

Benign waiters,

Unacceptable

Boon.

Blop.
Sizzle.
Orc.
Sweat.

Incrementally lavished inattention.

Foul or fair masses said for loathers of industry.

Incriminating letters column.

Fleeting, floating, flying, flowing flamingos.

Argh.

I found oil!

You have no idea how satisfying it is to spread soft oil color across a canvas and then attack it with a palette knife. I had quite forgotten, as I've been worried about getting smudges on the cats. Cadmium red is probably not part of a healthy cat's diet. They are older now and less likely to bounce around among my implements. I hope.

Dumdedum, my first oil painting in years. Pretty, ain't it?

And a link to my main art project: One Million Faces Before I Die.

I would do that one all in oils, if I had a lot of money for the material and the space to dry them. As it is, I can afford copy paper and ink...