Brain Dump

I seem to be in one of those client traps where they pay you too little to get the job done. (Sigh.) Ironically, my boss at the art school is in the same trap. I've heard about it before. It's a classic. One guy (unfortunately one I worked for) said he often bargained contractors down so low that he couldn't get them to show up and ultimately had to renegotiate.

Well, that guy (a Baltimore businessman, nobody who would be reading this) was out of control but, in general, you can't blame clients. They offer what they can, or at least it's polite to assume that they do.


Was it LeRochefucauld who said that people who do small things become incapable of doing large things? I think that this has happened to me a lot. I used to have a lot to say for myself, but now when I sit down to write I just get annoyed because my head is full of chopstick.

My cat loves the song "Georgia on my Mind" by Ray Charles. It just came on the radio now. Many of the animals I know have special songs I sing to them, which they come to associate with my affection. One cat, Spike, had a set of songs that meant different things to him. There was "Henry VIII," which meant that we were driving home. There was "Moonshadow," which meant that we were going for a walk. I made up a little tune called "Kitty go Ridin'" which he actually didn't seem to appreciate as much as the others. I also had a version of "Hey, Mickey" (Toni Basil) to express affection for little Spike.

One day, when Spike was about seventeen and on his last legs, he lay sprawled on my mother's porch as I prepared to drive home to Pennsylvania. I said, "C'mon, Spike; We're leaving," but he didn't acknowledge. Then my mother stroked him and told him to get up because I was leaving. Still, Spike didn't budge. I said, "Now, watch this, Mom," and I whistled "Henry XIII," whereupon Spike perked right up and went to the car! Oh, I love Spike!


Man, what was I so eager to write when I was out walking the dogs and the thoughts were really flowing? I don't know, but maybe I should list some short-range, medium-range and long-range plans.

Short-range: Follow up on doctor visit; pony up $118 for a new toilet; do some laundry; get more work; get some exercise (re-discover the White Album again?); get a shower; get some sleep and try not to be depressed... What else? I know there's much more I need to be worried about right now. Where is it hiding? I have to find some documents for an art school meeting; write to a priest about how I suck at getting good things done, and how I'm not sure God will have me, and how I want to fix both of these things, or maybe just let God fix them.

Medium-range: Build my house -- maybe prospecting for all kinds of help on facebook wouldn't be a bad idea.

I sent out some fishing lines and nobody bit. I'm a good writer and I'm really good at a lot of things. I should be gainfully employed, not just hand-to-mouth.

A neighbor who apparently liked my art once said that she was waiting for me to paint an heap of pictures and simply go into business selling my art on the internet. How would I get from here to there? I barely have time to visit the latrine, and not because I'm busy winning rewards but just because I'm busy staying out of trouble.