Dog Puke and Weddings.

I was woken up at 6 this morning by the sound of my dog puking. She was standing on the stairs at the time, right near where I had a bunch of paintings stacked up. Luckily only one painting was puked on, this one HERE! and only the back got puke on it as the painting had fallen over. I won't have any new paintings up for the next couple weeks as I'm leaving on a cruise next Thursday and will be getting married down in the Caribbean. So to all 3 of you who visit here, I love you.

Poetry Blow a Tree.

Read the writing on the wall, it's written there for us all. it says "hey kids come out and play" but inside is where we stay.Hiding from the sun we are, you're an idiot if you believe it's a star.The days the nights the girls the fights, we drink, we smoke, and we’ve all gone broke.Spending time in the water, spending time in your daughter.All the pain in her eyes, washes away when she cries.In the end we all die, in the end we all die.

Creative undead.

Or creatively dead, as it were. Every so often I go through these bouts where I feel like all my creative juices have dried up. Or I feel like I have these ideas in my head but I can't "see" them I can't get them out. I think the problem is my day job. It's Oatmeal colored office work, bland and tasteless. I feel that while I'm stuck here listening to the office chatter about TV shows I don't watch or celebrities I don't care about I could be off somewhere, painting or sculpting. Thinking about this depresses me, because I realize that no matter how much I'd like to live a life filled with art and free thinking, I'm stuck here at this job. The problem is, you can't live in this world without money, and I've yet to find a way to make a living with my art, now if that ever happened I'd be happier than a pig in shit, but for now I'm just in shit.

Maybe some day I'll break free from this invisible prison and live a life worth living, until then it's back to the grind for me.