weathered

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What comes easiest, naturally, the best thing, realizer of potentials and all things mighty. This is the hardest thing to wait for, curious in patient abiding. Wonder with wandering wonderment over what it will be. Insisting on never knowing. The easiest truth. The hard releasing. 

Hard only as a result of our training. In how to be unnatural. Control everything. Make infinite misery. Pretend as if your unique powers for curious noticing embedded in the ability to respond actively have not been trained and drained into utter manipulation. Pretend you have not become an arm, slimy manipulative appendage, of the system. Here’s your reward and punish punish punishment for just living. Twist it. Hard. That arm you now are. Cut off the circulation of who you naturally were. That hard. That kind of hard. Hardy har hardest.

I am a refusal of all this and catch myself, coming and going, in my lack of acceptance. 

Still. I am learning to wake up in bed. Wake up on my own. To my own. To my body.  Good morning. “Good morning, body.” To take deep breaths in order that I may lean in and listen. That I might hear an absorption happening between my ears and lower still, too. To my heart. “To my heart!” A declaration of action, of intention, of toasting appreciation. Of destination as of path thereto. 

I wake up and find smiles rising up my face. They seem to come from a place outside through to the inside of me and out. The bird sound I notice, for the first time not as a symbol of anything. Not as an indication that night solace is ending. Not as a reprimand for staying up too long nor a lament for having a job. For the first time in my life the bird sound is the voice of something living. The second I hear this my whole body fills like a raft with the knowledge and smile overtakes it. Infuses my body with the fact of the birds life. 

I can hear him speaking and I am growing aware of my whole body and my surrounds. The soft sheets the cool damp morning coming in the warm skin of my night body. This smile the world is making and wearing on my face. 

I sit up and my posture is childish and out of all my control. Legs straight, feet forward, naked toes meeting across the invisible bridge of paired legs. Separate entities, one body. They know, too. They know wherefrom comes the smile. I feel myself as a child. As if I have not myself woke and sat up but as if someone has lifted me awake and sat me here. I am in entire curious abiding. Child thing. No human. Not adult. 

Gravity lets go its arm then and I turn to the window. To listen again for the bird. No longer mere sound and meaning the bird is a living breathing thing. An entity that has nothing to do with me and offers everything to me. I roll onto my belly and let my feet dangle. Soles exposed close and direct to the radiant heater. Face in the cold wet air from the windows cracking. My body is thrilled with me or this. I hear it smiling. My mind’s hands feel the shape of it. The sensation such a delight I do not ever want to rise. 

But for the friendly grump of my tummy rumbling for breakfast. The elastic mud at the top of my skull clamoring for coffee. 

I resist. I look at my phone for the weather. Foggy & rainy yet again today with absolutely no breaks in this weather trend predicted for the foreseeable future – good thing my mood is cheery. Noting, through my cheeriness, that I have absolutely zero interest in attending my job today. Some answering voice, hovering, abiding time from the universe fails to let this opportunity pass. It answers, with even more damnable cheer than my own psyche: “Hehehe. Zero interest. No motivation. None, nada, zero. Perfect. There is so much room for progress in that number. So many places to go from there !!!”

I swear and roll out of the bed. I find slippers to slip my warmed up feet into. The dog follows me to the kitchen. The day continues, beginning. 

2

I am enjoying the way this old custom-painted Athearn Northern Pacific 86 foot boxcar is coming along. This was one of several used cars that I picked up on eBay. Some of the cars were newer Walthers models with decent details, and some were old Athearn cars like this one. The most interesting part of the deal is that all of the Athearn cars have customized styrene coupler stuctures that provide much better movement than the stock Athearn design. Somebody did the work, but the seller didn’t provide the name of the original owner. I assume it was an estate sale acquisition.

The first step on this car was to bleach the Dullcote a bit and then start in on some oil paint rust. This is sort of the first pass, but it still looks pretty decent. Really, the green paint should be much lighter, but because I am working with the goal of respecting the original modeler’s work, I can’t do too much with the paint and decals.

6

Here are a few Walthers 86′ High-cube boxcars that I weathered with some brushed artist’s oils and pastels, and airbrushed Polyscale and AIM solutions. I did some paint fading before adding the rust and dirt by airbrushing lighter tones of the background color followed by a heavily airbrushed coat of Dullcote. which was then sprayed with rubbing alcohol, which tends to cause a whitening of the Dullcote and helps to create a faded look.These are pretty basic models without any added detailing.