I painted for the first time in a really long time last night. Nothing professional, but the experience was quite poetic. After spending hours upon hours uploading dozens of CDs onto iTunes, I felt the sudden urge to create art by some medium. After gathering the paints and whatnot I ventured back to my room where I put some of my new Benny Goodman on and got to work. I used a single brush. I noticed as much art in the palette and rinse water as I did on my canvas. The muscles in my right arm moved with tune of the piano melody floating from my speakers. I was drawn to earth tones; some more vibrant than others. Not once did I step back to look at the image I had been creating, I was rapt with repetitive movements: from palette to water, back to palette, and onto my canvas. I imagined the scene I was painting to be moving with the music; its tone and colors alternating with the rise and fall of soundwaves. Then iTunes went to the next artist by alphebetical order: Bob Dylan. In an instant the vintage artist vibe brought about by Goodman had changed to something more organic. My artistic mind traveled a couple decades through time, landing me outside of the "City Lights Bookstore" in San Fransisco. I lost track of the technology I was surrounded by, and focused on the color of nature, and the perfect tint of moon. I considered the work completed when I filled the last expanse of sky with tones of setting rays. I returned from my trip, and headed to the sink to rinse my palette of excess artistic emotion, while purposely leaving some residual nature on its contrasting black surface. I set my tools on my dresser with the promise to work them out soon, and a reminder to keep their disposable beings for value. After which I went to bed. I woke up this morning with fresh eyes and reviewed my work. I found that I had created my personal paradise, with music, text, nature, love, and happiness incorporated. The painting can be found on the inside cover of my commonplace book.