hi, everyone! it's me: karey m. i once wrote mackin ink, but now i write not-so-much-at-all. that will probably maybe certainly someday change, though. because no matter how i try to run from my words, they always seem to catch up to me when i'm gasping for air.
so. it's no secret to my imaginary friends that i want to be an artist. desperately. {sigh.} it is slow going, for sure.
but, today? i shall pretend. play along, won't you?
if i were an artist, you and i would be friends. i'd invite you to my home for a latte, which we'd drink from these fancies...
you'd tell me it's the best. latte. ever. what's the trick? you'd ask. and i'd shrug my shoulders and honestly tell you i wasn't entirely sure of the trick, but that i think it had something to do with me being an artist. plus maybe the cool glassware. we'd chat and chat and chat until our glasses had been emptied and refilled. twice. then i'd pour us something sparkly...
you'd giggle. champagne at noon? in a canary cup? how oddly naughty! and i'd agree. because the best artists are a little odd and more than a little naughty, don't you think?
you'd admire my armful of turquoise, but you'd really really want a closer look at my necklace...
you'd gulp and ask quietly, a d-d-death tag? and i would gaze off into the distance ever-so-dramatically and answer just as quietly back, it reminds me of a time when i wasn't an artist. your eyes would widen a bit until you heard me pronounce artist like arr-teest, and then we'd laugh and laugh. because dramatic artists are hilarious, aren't they?
i'd show you the the new feathers i bought to wear to the grocery, and you would gasp. to the grocery?
and i'd smile and call you silly. artists don't go to the grocery.
you'd spy ruffles peeking out from my bureau drawer, and squeal what is that?! because everyone loves ruffles. i would try it on for you and hold my breath until you declared love it love it love it. i can't even believe those ruffles don't make your bum look big! at all!
and i'd smile brightly, because artists do not enjoy being told their bums look big. at all.
you'd stay all day. because imaginary friends never tire of each other, and artists are good company. i'd disappear for just a moment and return with such a healthy snack that it would probably add one day to both of our lives. but afterward? we'd share two and a half of these...
which would taste exactly as exquisite as they looked. you'd exclaim you're a fabulous chef! and i'd shake my head and disagree politely. no no no no...i am an artist.
we'd end the day with a tiny tour of my studio. your mouth would drop open and you'd probably punch me on my arm and you'd most likely yell emphatically NO WAY IS THIS YOUR STUDIO! and i'd reply way. because artists are always agreeable and overflowing with hope that we'll find some way.
it is at that moment when i decide i will not show you my bedroom. because artists do not like to brag.
and as i walk you out to your bicycle - because imaginary friends live just a bicycle ride away from each other - i'd slip a little thank-you-for-spending-the-day-with-me gift into your basket. you'd stare at it for a full minute before you even dared to touch it. paper? you'd whisper. this is paper? and you'd shake your head and tell me i can't wear this, can i? it's so delicate. what if it breaks?
and i would assure you that it's much stronger than it looks. and i'd say something memorably wise, like it's better to break a bangle than to break a heart. you'd laugh once more and shake your head, mumbling under your breath, you artists. but i'd know you were only teasing, because you'd pronounce artists like arr-teests.
you'd tell me how much you loved our day together. i'd agree, and wish for you to come back again and again and again.
because a true artist is nothing without her friends.
hey, you. i loved our moment together. i did. melissa's space is quite a lovely place to spend time. it's as though she's somehow sending us a love letter every. single. day. but that's how it is with true artists, isn't it? magic. and no small amount of pixie dust...
one more thing before i disappear again. if i were an artist - and even if my dream doesn't ever never not ever come true {which would gut me. it would.} - i would do everything i could to convince one of my favorite imaginary friends to open a shoppe with me. soon-ish.
i'd make sure she is an artist. unequivocally so. i'd also make sure her heart is giant-sized. unequivocally so. and i would know, without a doubt, that ruffles don't ever never not ever make her bum look big.
catch you later, friends. xoxo. karey m. {and an extra xoxo to you, melissa. i loved this. i did.}
