Reality, baby

Here's the reality of the situation: There isn't a Jeb Stuart painting. It simply doesn't exist.

The reasons: A) I'm only human. B) Between Dad's memorial service--you're all invited--and my upcoming move to B-Town, there is a relatively high probability that you've heard the last of me for the next week or so.

Actually, that's not true. I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if I pop up here and there--I think I'm addicted. But there won't be any fucking Jeb Stuart painting. And there won't be one for another month or so. And even then, it might get bumped for "The Annotated Murdoch", which is a time-sensitive project. Or my "Reclined Elena" painted as a cheerleader on five paper panels. Which would be a quiptych? A diptych is certainly two. Perhaps polyptych (since I haven't quite figured out the actual number of panels) might be a better choice. There are questions to be answered. For example, how far does her extended foot actually extend? You can't see it in the picture. And whither the pom-pons? Do they extend, not one but two of them, perhaps, some considerable distance to the right of her head? Is she wearing sneakers (a modern look) or those vintage-feel, pink-soled saddle shoes that look like little police cars?

These are all questions.

Likewise the question of whether a polyptych can, in fact, be one (hewing close to the primary definition) if the panels are not joined by a hinge or some sort.

I took a quiptych to the supermarket, where I had a nervous breakdown. Became unhinged.