Once Upon a Time...

A self portrait of me in say 1977

Once upon a time I thought I might earn my living with art.  I had this odd idea I might eke out enough income to keep body and soul in the same place.  But that was back in the days when I was young, and very poor, and what the hell you could live on a dream five dollars a day.  I didn't need much in those days, not really.

But, that was BC (before children), and anyway, it's probably just as well I didn't take that road.  Over the years I've decided I'd have starved to death, I wasn't that good, still aren't.  But I do love to draw, even thought I left the pencils and papers in the box for years.  But now I've got to much time to fill, and so I've brought them back out again just to have something to do.  I've made it a rule to get out of the house at least once a day, and since I really don't have anywhere to go 99% of the time most of the time I end up sitting in the little greasy spoon diner with the sketch gear in the trusty satchel that served as my office for so many years just doodling whatever comes to mind, or gets started from a few random scribbles.  

It's a hell of a note, but if someone told me to get a life?  I wouldn't disagree with them.  I'm in bad need of one of them things right about now.  Problem is I'm not entirely sure just what kind of a life I really want to try for.

I've looked at this, I've looked at that, nothing really seems appealing.  But, failing to get a life what's left?  Get a death?  That's becoming a real fear for me.  Yea, I'm sounding like some emo 14 year old, but dammit, that's how I feel.  I could go back into industry, whore myself out for people who wouldn't give a second thought to using up what I have left, and then dumping me having found some excuse or another to claim it's my fault. 

I know how that bunch works.  I could waste a bunch of money going to college, fake it like I give a shit what they think, but why?  What do they have to offer?  Ok, it's not a bad place to meet women.  But beyond that, what?  Not much. 

I could build some of the things I've had on the back burner drawing board for twenty some years now, and break my own promise to myself to never be a traitor to humanity feeding the machine.  Probably just get them stolen anyhow, or have to sit and watch the fucking establishment do with them what they've done with everyone elses' ideas: use them to fuck over the world to make a buck for the freeloaders.


Nah, that's not such a good idea.  I'd have to kill a bunch of them then, and that wouldn't do any good anyway.  So, in the end it's back to the old original once upon a time in America idea: art.  Why not.  Everyone knows artists are crazy, no one expects shit out of you because they usually don't have a clue what you're trying to do anyway (if, and that's a big if, you know yourself what you're trying to do).  So, what the hell.  It's not so bad, not really. It's coming back to me, all of these were speed sketches done in the last week sitting at the diner listening to the drunk college kids asking themselves the same questions I am, none of them took more than twenty minutes, and the hands are remembering.  It's coming back quicker than I thought it would.  What the fuck, why not.  And hey, I do own an airbrush, and a spray gun, and an air compressor, and the fan I saved from the old furnace is big enough to run an air bench for me with a little creative plumbing and filter work so I can paint in the garage, and bikers pay outrageous amounts of money for pretty pictures on the tank and kick plates, and, and, yea I am a little bit drunk.  Sue me.