Too much happened today. I drove too long to get to breakfast and I ate too much, the most convenient form of self-medication for me lately, mood altering without addressing the precipitating issue. Then I drove home back to this temporary home which is just a long way from city to city and then I forgot to get cat food, but I did remember to tank up the car.
All of that is not too much, not even for a lazy oaf like me.
But. Each part was full of that ozoney smell.
So, we have this friend, the one who is likely to end up losing everything because she cannot seem to get past the notion that she is entitled to have anything and everything she wants without having to actually work for whatever the hell she wants and in the process is pissing away, well, everything. Her solution is to have me live with her in the condo she cannot sell and take care of her and prevent the losses that we, the friends, can see coming. The storm of inattention and unrealistic expectations.
Then there is another of our friends, one of the ones who insisted on this depressing conversation about the other friend.. Her resources are not what she would like, like who the hell has the resources they would like to have for chrissakes anyway. Her solution is that we share an apartment and all that particular flavor of good intentions. The storm of the perfect way to ruin a friendship.
Friend number three is also offering to house me if need be, and I am so bummed that I could not keep my own counsel when the scary stuff happened, because your friends should never have to know that kind of crap about you and your problems, but it is too late because I, in my defensee, was really scared by the scary stuff and it is way too late to close that barn door because the horsie is probably in the next hemisphere by now. I now know that the next time I get frightened at the place where I am not living right now, it is in my best interest to do what I have to do and keep my damn mouth shut and just deal with it.
You know, we spew about our problems in that moment when we cannot see that we have other options and just panic and think that just because we have friends that sharing with them could help. It never does. It feels good in the moments of forming the words and thoughts and letting them flow out of us and we forget that once spoken that those words go on the have an independent life. The storm of allowing fear to take control.
I have to go home in a few more days, two to be precise. I cannot even think about it, I feel such distress. Lots of visitors today when I finally made it back here. The sculpture is nearly finished and is on the ground floor because that is where it needs to be for the final parts. Just too messy to do upstairs in the living quarters and I tossed it all in the bucket and hoisted it down. It is cool. I really is. It was the perfect process of preparation and execution and allowing the piece to become, to manifest in exactly the way is was supposed to 'become'. I totally, fucking love it when that happens, when I am able to get out of the way and just breathe the work into being.
So, back here and the place filled up with artists who are just like nature...both abhor a vacuum. Okey-dokey, I freely admit that I do not mind a bit. Not even a teeny, weeny, microscopic bit. The be back in the realm of art and the people who make art is divine and I make no excuses for loving every moment of it. So, four people stopped by in the course of the couple of hours that I worked downstairs. And, this one guy has been by here several times and I do not mind, because I like him and he is fun and funny, even when that is not his intention and he really likes me and it is cool that he wants to stop by and just waste time with me. I am one of those artists who knows nothing about art or art history or much of anything, art related or not. I sometimes think that much of what I know is by default, that learning stuff is inevitable if you just live long enough.
So, anyway, I talked him into contributing to the show, mostly because he makes lots of art, is amazing at what he does, but rarely, like in hardly every, allows his work to be sold. So, he calls and says that he has two pieces that he wants to bring over and when he gets here, one is still wet because he painted it just because we had that conversation about him participating. Both pieces are amazing, the new one that will not be dry when we open in a few weeks and the other that he painted a few years ago and brought to me only because I told him to go home and look through his stuff and then we had another conversation and he shared why he does not sell his work and it is a whole messy situation of not being able to sell because it will affect his financial situation and I am not sharing exactly what that is, but if you have a similar situation you know exactly what his issue is and you now know what a stupid asshole I am for not getting the dope on the circumstances before getting involved.
I suck. But, he is keeping the pieces in the show and we will find a way to manage and keep him safe and all that stuff. How he likes me still is a mystery, but he does. I am so stupid and because I just had to meddle, I am responsible for whatever crap happens over this. The storm of not minding your own damn business.
By the way, I am not moving from one horrible living situation into some other more benign one just because those were offered to me. No fucking way. And, I did go back out to find the cat's favorite tinned food. The pleasure that kitty is giving me here is a great pleasure because she does not take well to anyone except her mom and her mom's companion, who was also her childhood sweetheart and how cool is that.
You know how Scarlet keeps telling us that tomorrow is another day? Well, that is what I am hoping will happen and that I will not mess up or be messed with at all during my final two days here. Even beyond then. I am going to be a quiet, little mouse and stay in my hidey-hole. And, be quiet.
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