Skunks came to lick my eyes in the night. Small black birds feasted on my guts. There is someone named Bobby-Lucy who is entering this quadrant, claiming to be my advice guide of the moment. She is not. There is a boil on my cheek, it's ok, it's purple.
Today is for inside/outside living, achieving something with yaps and small brushes and returning without really returning to the ideas in my junkyard. Painting has been virtually non-existent for weeks and even drawing has seemed unusually hard. Where is the porpoise of truth, not in liquid or dry formats, not in gesture or spills, not in patterns or squeaky bits. Resolution anticipates coming in January. I am trying hard not to buy heroin for the holidays. I have many many families to visit. If anyone has heroin please call me.