Me and the Lint

I paint what I don't have

Earlier in the month I mentioned last month's bank balance to a friend, who was horrified.  I stretched seventy-four cents from the 20th to the 30th.

"I'm sending you some money," she declared. Oh no you don't...I told you that after the fact, not to extract cash but to express how proud I am of myself.  I choose my expenditures carefully, and if I hadn't joined the local art club last month I'duv had another 15 bucks in my pocket.

Andria said something to the effect that because I write tongue-in-cheek it's sometimes difficult to tell when I'm joking and when I'm serious.  Gee, hadn't thought about that.  Can't you people read what's inside my head, too?

Just before Mother's Day I attended the season's kick-off festival along with the rest of my art group.  I heard the economy's improving and since I didn't have the pressure of hosting my own 10x10' tent I figured I'd grab a few things and see for myself.

I heard, more than once, that there were more exhibitors that people. Me, I got skunked.  I couldn't give my rooster away, but plenty of people asked how I made it, and I told them.  I'll tell you too: it's just modeling paste.  What the hell; maybe someone else can support themselves.

The only sales from the group were a cool powder-horn and a rock painted like a turtle. "So you weren't the only one (who didn't sell)," a well-meaning neighbor commented after the show.

"Yeah, misery loves company."  I shouldn't have been that short perhaps, but as I told her the next day, it's not a good idea to ask me, "How'd It Go?" when you don't know the answer, like a lawyer.

If it went well, you'll know.  If it didn't, you'll know that, too.  You won't need to ask, and it will be safer for our friendship.  I can't speak for other artists.

"At least I didn't LOSE any money," as I usually did the past few years when I didn't even recoup the cost of the space.  Despite my depiction I'm glad I went to see for myself.  And my mood remained fine until the end, when I was packing up my stuff alone in the heat, dodging traffic, artists and tykes on bikes to get to my parked truck down the street; sweatin' like Mike Tyson in a Spelling Bee.  Do I really want to put myself through that again?

The Oohs and Aahs earned me Nada, but at least I wasn't fretting about paying the rent.  I did that for more years than I care to remember before SSI kicked in to save me from life under a bridge.

I'm being serious, for those of you in doubt.  Mazlow's Heirarchy of Needs; I've referenced it before.  Food and shelter are of primary importance before the psyche can enjoy higher needs such as safety, companionship and ultimately self-actualization.  I've long suspected I'm living my life in reverse, sort of like Benjamin Button; so if the Heirarchy's reversed in my case as well, I guess that makes sense, too.

I'm still a Starving Artist, only this month as of yesterday I have $1.94 in my account, plus a couple of bucks in my purse.  I have everything I need at the moment; I am a happy woman; and no, I'm not joking.

P.S.  In case my titles confound you, too: this one is the answer to,

"What has she got in her pocketses?"