Start from the
beginning, Jane. Work your way around.
Ideas bump into each other, visions crowd the
forefront of my mind. Blues. Go for the the
blues. Geometrics. Transparent. Different
themes, riotous schemes mingle on the screen in my head. I'm like a kid in a toy store, gawping and staring, longing to touch it all, see it all.
Slow down, Jane. Work out what you plan
on doing with your plastics.
buckets of discs. Flourescent pink. Translucent
green. Little bits perfect for Tiddlywinks.
Cylinders, cubes, flat hoops. Bright skinny
wedges click their way into my basket. I can't
get enought of the squigglies, the tiny balls.
I have vague ideas: a cityline of
transparent cubes, short and squat; rectangular,
tall and narrow. A clear blue crescent moon,
floating flatly in the background. A forest of
luminous blues and crystal-like cylinders. A
jungle-gym sort of structure, hung with hoops,
triangle chips, squiggles. A clear bowl filled with
dozens of the little plastic dice.
That's one full basket you've got there!
kidding, eh? I watch the checkout lady tally up
my total, flicking the pieces to one side as she
counts rapidly: 73 pieces at $0.15 dozen, (she leaves
the extra one in), 3 chunks at $1.00 apiece, little
marble-like balls, the moons, the hoops, the
triangle chips. 15 plastic wedges, long narrow ramps. The squiggles, flat confetti.
'That comes to $46.65'
I dish it out willingly, sit on my bed at home to pour it all out. Paw through my plastics, piling, sorting and
stacking; the pictures in my head slowly coalescing into actual designs as my eye candy clicks through my fingers and I grin like a fool.
Thank you, Andy, for introducing me to this place. I think it is about to become my new obsession.