Tonight was my last ever art class in York. This makes me sad in a multi-faceted way. I'm often amazed at the capacity the human mind has for different kinds of sadness.
This makes me sad because it's the first of the lasts.
I'm not good with Last Things. I get too attached to things, people and places. I will be ticking off: last walk by the river, last visit to the library, last visit to the museum, last time with this friend, last time with that friend. And so it will go on for the next three weeks, until it will be the last time I lock my front door.
Knowing it's my last art class is particularly sad as it was the first thing I did in York that I liked. I met the incomparable Greg McGee and he introduced me to people who became my friends. It was a beacon in the dark when things went all shitsville with That Job and I'm going to miss it. A lot.
I still can't draw for shit, like, but that's my fault for being rubbish at being in any way diligent.
I'll find a class on the Isle of Wight but it won't be the same.
Last things suck.