Okay, so my third try at this, with the earlier ones being found here;
( Episode 1 : A day in the life of an RF celeb : The Quagmire edition | ReligiousForums.com )
( Episode 2 : A day in the life of an RF celeb : The Revoltingest edition | ReligiousForums.com )
Sunstone looked at the canvas with mild annoyance. He was miffed, in truth. He was getting pretty good at this painting thing, even in his own estimation. But this last painting was just missing the mark, somehow. Of course, it was the first time he'd attempted a self-portrait, but he had painted from photographs before. It shouldn't be THAT different, should it? He considered the photo, then the canvas, eyes flicking from one to the next as he considered each feature. The nose looked perfect, apart from the understandable removal of a few grey hairs from the depths of his left nostril. Even the eyes were pretty good, and they'd traditionally been his nemesis. He had the slight glassiness to them which left them looking alive, and he nodded with satisfaction at the balance he's achieved. But, dammit, the painting was missing something. That indescribable quality of HIM.
With a shrug, Sunstone rose from the pedestal before his easel, and stretched, easing stiff muscles into action. He peered out the window, noting the orange glow on the horizon, and realised he'd been painting most of the night. Well, that was a good excuse to go for a walk and a coffee if nothing else.
Grabbing his coat, he stepped out into the brisk morning air, feeling the chill through his nostrils as he strode out, body awakening with the dawn of the new day. He reached the first street, and was surprised to see a homeless man sitting there on a beaten up old suitcase.
'Hello friend', Sunstone offered.
'Hello to you', the man said, his accent strange, his mannerisms alien to this place.
'Canadian, huh?', Phil asked.
'Indeed! I am a wandering Canadian mystic, seeking enlightenment.'
'On a Colorado street corner?'
'Of course, friend. Where else? Does enlightenment only reside in majestic places?'
'Well...no. I guess not. But if enlightenment is everywhere, why did you have to travel at all?'
'Oh. Well. Mother-in-law...', the Canadian muttered somewhat sheepishly, and Sunstone nodded with clear empathy.
'Perhaps you can help me then? I'm painting a self-portrait, based on a photo. It all looks pretty close to the photo, but honestly I don't seem to have quite captured the essence of myself.'
'Ahhh. I see. When you look at the painting, you see a mere facsimilie of yourself, whereas when you look within your heart, you see so much more...', the Canadian mystic offered with complete certainty.
'My goodness. That's it! Thank-you, brother.'
And with that, Sunstone resumed his stroll to the shops, certain in his own mind that he had the answer he needed. Once he had his morning coffee, he could return and view the painting as a picture, secure in the knowledge that it could never show the depths within. Although, doubt interceded, you've never had this problem with other paintings, and none of those capture people's innermost hearts either. Perhaps, Sunstone countered, that is because I have more depth than those other people? Doubt raised a skeptical eyebrow.
The next street corner offered an even stranger sight than a wandering Canadian mystic. A tabby cat sat looking at him with knowing eyes. Somewhat confronted by the intelligence evident in the cat's eyes, Sunstone took a small leap to the left. Confirming his suspicion that this was an unusually intelligent cat, the cat didn't follow his sudden movement, but instead just shook his head sadly. 'People always do that, you know...', the cat said in a calm, softly-spoken brogue.
'You're an Irish cat?'
'Oh, to be sure. And you're a portrait painter who is more surprised by my heritage than by the fact that I can talk.'
'Well. That's a good point', Sunstone admitted, since it was. 'I wonder if you can answer my question, then?'
'Of course I can.'
'You can?', Sunstone asked incredulously, for he hadn't even asked it yet.
'Of course. Whether the answer is good is another matter entirely, and depends both on the nature of the question, and your expectation of the answer.'
'Wow. You're good.' And with that, Sunstone explained how his self-portrait was just lacking a little something.
'You're missing the woods for the trees is all. Like when you were so surprised that I was Irish you forgot to wonder why I could speak.'
'That makes perfect sense! My goodness, such insight! Why can you speak, by the way?'
'How else could I swear at the English?', the cat asked, not waiting or an answer before stalking off in the arrogant manner cats often have.
And with that, Sunstone resumed his stroll to the shops, certain in his own mind that he had the answer he needed. Once he had his morning coffee, he could return and view the painting with some perspective, secure in the knowledge that the whole is more than the sum of the parts. Although, doubt interceded, you've always been a big picture person. Details have always been a little superfluous. Well, Sunstone countered, perhaps I needed a reminder? Doubt didn't even bother pointing out that the reminder had come from an Irish cat. Shouldn't a cat mystic be from Nepal, or Delhi, or Malibu?
It was a perturbed Sunstone who ordered his coffee then, and perhaps that was why he got his Soy Mocha Latte but forgot to grab his sugar. Mind wandering, he took a sip as he crossed back out into the morning air.
'Mr Sunstone, Mr Sunstone, you forgot your sugar...', the barista called, chasing him with a clutch of sugar packets. Sunstone frowned, then took a slow sip from his hot beverage, the froth thick on his upper lip.
'You know...it tastes different, but I think I'm going to have it without sugar today. It seems right. For today.'
Pondering this strange turn of events, Sunstone began the walk home. The mystical Canadian and the mystical cat had missed the mark, but the morning coffee was shaking something in his mind.
As he stepped back into his home, he suddenly realised what it was.
'Sometimes it's not what is there, but what is NOT there that truly paints the picture!', he said triumphantly.
And with that, he quickly erased the pants from his self-portrait. Perfect. Now it captured him magnificently.
( Episode 1 : A day in the life of an RF celeb : The Quagmire edition | ReligiousForums.com )
( Episode 2 : A day in the life of an RF celeb : The Revoltingest edition | ReligiousForums.com )
Sunstone looked at the canvas with mild annoyance. He was miffed, in truth. He was getting pretty good at this painting thing, even in his own estimation. But this last painting was just missing the mark, somehow. Of course, it was the first time he'd attempted a self-portrait, but he had painted from photographs before. It shouldn't be THAT different, should it? He considered the photo, then the canvas, eyes flicking from one to the next as he considered each feature. The nose looked perfect, apart from the understandable removal of a few grey hairs from the depths of his left nostril. Even the eyes were pretty good, and they'd traditionally been his nemesis. He had the slight glassiness to them which left them looking alive, and he nodded with satisfaction at the balance he's achieved. But, dammit, the painting was missing something. That indescribable quality of HIM.
With a shrug, Sunstone rose from the pedestal before his easel, and stretched, easing stiff muscles into action. He peered out the window, noting the orange glow on the horizon, and realised he'd been painting most of the night. Well, that was a good excuse to go for a walk and a coffee if nothing else.
Grabbing his coat, he stepped out into the brisk morning air, feeling the chill through his nostrils as he strode out, body awakening with the dawn of the new day. He reached the first street, and was surprised to see a homeless man sitting there on a beaten up old suitcase.
'Hello friend', Sunstone offered.
'Hello to you', the man said, his accent strange, his mannerisms alien to this place.
'Canadian, huh?', Phil asked.
'Indeed! I am a wandering Canadian mystic, seeking enlightenment.'
'On a Colorado street corner?'
'Of course, friend. Where else? Does enlightenment only reside in majestic places?'
'Well...no. I guess not. But if enlightenment is everywhere, why did you have to travel at all?'
'Oh. Well. Mother-in-law...', the Canadian muttered somewhat sheepishly, and Sunstone nodded with clear empathy.
'Perhaps you can help me then? I'm painting a self-portrait, based on a photo. It all looks pretty close to the photo, but honestly I don't seem to have quite captured the essence of myself.'
'Ahhh. I see. When you look at the painting, you see a mere facsimilie of yourself, whereas when you look within your heart, you see so much more...', the Canadian mystic offered with complete certainty.
'My goodness. That's it! Thank-you, brother.'
And with that, Sunstone resumed his stroll to the shops, certain in his own mind that he had the answer he needed. Once he had his morning coffee, he could return and view the painting as a picture, secure in the knowledge that it could never show the depths within. Although, doubt interceded, you've never had this problem with other paintings, and none of those capture people's innermost hearts either. Perhaps, Sunstone countered, that is because I have more depth than those other people? Doubt raised a skeptical eyebrow.
The next street corner offered an even stranger sight than a wandering Canadian mystic. A tabby cat sat looking at him with knowing eyes. Somewhat confronted by the intelligence evident in the cat's eyes, Sunstone took a small leap to the left. Confirming his suspicion that this was an unusually intelligent cat, the cat didn't follow his sudden movement, but instead just shook his head sadly. 'People always do that, you know...', the cat said in a calm, softly-spoken brogue.
'You're an Irish cat?'
'Oh, to be sure. And you're a portrait painter who is more surprised by my heritage than by the fact that I can talk.'
'Well. That's a good point', Sunstone admitted, since it was. 'I wonder if you can answer my question, then?'
'Of course I can.'
'You can?', Sunstone asked incredulously, for he hadn't even asked it yet.
'Of course. Whether the answer is good is another matter entirely, and depends both on the nature of the question, and your expectation of the answer.'
'Wow. You're good.' And with that, Sunstone explained how his self-portrait was just lacking a little something.
'You're missing the woods for the trees is all. Like when you were so surprised that I was Irish you forgot to wonder why I could speak.'
'That makes perfect sense! My goodness, such insight! Why can you speak, by the way?'
'How else could I swear at the English?', the cat asked, not waiting or an answer before stalking off in the arrogant manner cats often have.
And with that, Sunstone resumed his stroll to the shops, certain in his own mind that he had the answer he needed. Once he had his morning coffee, he could return and view the painting with some perspective, secure in the knowledge that the whole is more than the sum of the parts. Although, doubt interceded, you've always been a big picture person. Details have always been a little superfluous. Well, Sunstone countered, perhaps I needed a reminder? Doubt didn't even bother pointing out that the reminder had come from an Irish cat. Shouldn't a cat mystic be from Nepal, or Delhi, or Malibu?
It was a perturbed Sunstone who ordered his coffee then, and perhaps that was why he got his Soy Mocha Latte but forgot to grab his sugar. Mind wandering, he took a sip as he crossed back out into the morning air.
'Mr Sunstone, Mr Sunstone, you forgot your sugar...', the barista called, chasing him with a clutch of sugar packets. Sunstone frowned, then took a slow sip from his hot beverage, the froth thick on his upper lip.
'You know...it tastes different, but I think I'm going to have it without sugar today. It seems right. For today.'
Pondering this strange turn of events, Sunstone began the walk home. The mystical Canadian and the mystical cat had missed the mark, but the morning coffee was shaking something in his mind.
As he stepped back into his home, he suddenly realised what it was.
'Sometimes it's not what is there, but what is NOT there that truly paints the picture!', he said triumphantly.
And with that, he quickly erased the pants from his self-portrait. Perfect. Now it captured him magnificently.
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