October 14, 2012

People come to my studio while I’m painting. I like this. Sometimes they’re hesitant, sometimes as bold as if entering a store.  One group the other day, some from Charlotte, some from New Jersey, stayed a long time and really looked, critiquing, appreciating, figuring out the goofy titles. They thought the paintings were “powerful.” To another yesterday I told the story of Miss Gossen saying in eighth grade that I had better give up the idea of being an artist. She said, “Oh, no, I think you’ve found your vocation.” Others say “Oh, what beautiful light you have in this studio,” and you want the plaster to fall in on their heads. Locked the key in the truck and DJ had to come for me, but before that Jinx tried to jimmy the door open. He was unsuccessful, but it was the longest conversation we’d ever had. I tried to say, “I appreciate the effort” when we were done, but what I said was, “I like you.” One set of words became another by their own volition. Maybe it’s a kind of eu-tourette’s.

Finished a revision of The Riding Funhouse this morning. I didn’t expect this to be the case, but the rectification of various versions was the big effort. It was like digging through the levels of Troy.

Fasted yesterday and then ate birthday cake at J and L’s. I thought I was having a stroke, but then realized it was a sugar rush, a sort of creeping heat that leaves one on the edge of passing out. Didn’t like it. The moment I arrive at a party I begin plotting an exit strategy. I don’t even notice myself doing it.