Friday January 4th 2019Tim
OK Chaps! A
crisis in N scale where I am king. It's called painting,
and your correspondent is way below hopeless at it.
Hours and hours of painstaking work, in comes the paint
brush and poof we're talking the sort of disaster that
produced the Soviet Apartment Building. To the end of
the earth with attempts at realism, just going to have
to go full blown tie-dye, kaftans, sit-ins and Jimmy
Hendrix album covers.
Does put a
bit of burden on the Gormenghast end of N Scale, but so
what, maybe they were all tripping out in a joyous
manner released from the constraints of red ties, white
shirts, maleness and flannels when the painters arrived.
Wasn't it nice to see the freedom of meanings at the
current speaker's oathing ceremony. And no, not a
believer in the streaming of consciousness as producing
anything useful this side of a rubber room of lies.