my camera…she dies slowly. my laptop…she is four years old and easily over-heated. my new apartment…she is very very expensive to a struggling artist-writer mama and her dusty cohort (who is a very talented cook & grossly underpaid.)
i need confidence and a benefactor.
i am returning to school this fall, taking a class in confidence–er, digital media. i’m hoping to feel more competitive with freelance work once i feel more confident about creating digitally.
i am reading amanda palmer’s the art of asking. okay, i haven’t yet gotten the introduction read, but it is on my kitchen table waiting for me to have a free moment to focus. i am hoping it will be so damned inspirational that i have no choice but to fly out of my little hole in the ground and start molesting people with my awesomeness…er…or, maybe i misunderstood the book jacket message….
i have a new apartment! & internet!
but no furniture. i live in the college town of madison and all the fucking uhauls are rented through 5:15pm on sunday, august 16th. holy fuck. so we are living on the bare minimum of furniture, dishes, & utensils. i have my cast iron skillets with me and am seeing what all they can be used for. i did make a cheesecake for misha’s birthday in a cast iron skillet. cheesecake pans are for pussies (or, people who can afford cheesecake pans.)
i draw. i write bad poetry. i pace. i wince as my children shriek. (how did i give birth to FOUR shrieking children?? my poor neighbors. please don’t hate me new neighbors.) i am an artist.
next week, i will have a desk…maybe. with a desk to draw upon–the world will be my oyster.
i have been doodling and could post a picture accordingly, but i don’t feel like walking downstairs & finding my camera to take a picture of my artwork. plus, my canon digital camera is acting as if it does not have much longer to live. if i have any benefactors out there…hint. hint. too many kids dropping said camera after massaging it with sticky fingers, i suppose.
but i am doodling. exercising my pens, as it were, who are much happier now that i have started shaking them loose.
i am still–still still still–between homes. we had to move out of the abandoned house we were squatting in. we went back to dusty’s sister’s house, but after a fight with dusty, i packed up the minions and went to my brother’s house in my gloriously flat home state of illiniois. at least my brother keeps his fridge stocked with beer.
why did dusty & i fight? spoilers! the other woman factor…which will be addressed in comic form eventually. the other fucking woman. as if moses jones is not enough woman for any man?? phih-shaw!
so i drove off…as i will…moving my babies for the fourth time this summer. but my brother’s house, as i said, has more beer…and has fewer (none) pitbulls. there is one cranky golden lab mix however. a lot more room! a trampoline even! iggy should be in seventh heaven, but iggy is iggy and like his dusty daddy, he is hard to please.
forgive me, i babble a bit. must be the well-stocked beer fridge.
in one week…one week! if dusty & i work out our differences…in one week, we will be sleeping in our own beds and irritating our own neighbors. so exciting. in one week, i will have a space of my own once more.
and the art will flow!
until then, don’t forget me. (i have not forgotten you.)