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Sunday, April 9, 2017


Fave carnival ride as a kid AND adult? The merry-go -round. Yeah, sure it’s not exactly a death courting, adrenaline igniting, puke inciter. Some might even think of it as a total, stone snoozer BUT HEY pretty horses. Sometimes there are dragons and mermaids too.  Life's fuckng zoomy and scary enough. I do NOT need a Fireball or a Mind Eraser to get my heart racing and the old blood pressure up In Cloud City. I've got life to do that for me thenkyew veddy much.
Back when I first moved up here I hung with a bunch of MIT students. My high school buddy Craig was a mechanical engineering student (Course 2) – he introduced me around. Very nice, open group of people.

When graduation time came around, the vast majority had big jobs with ginormous pay waiting for them. About half of the aviation/aerospace majors (Course 16) had no qualms going to work for nearby Raytheon. Yeah, they'd become part of the war machine BUT they'd earn big bacon and not need to move to some dull, far flung rural outpost. Win/win for those who didn't suffer conscience pangs vis-à-vis being a contributing player in the organized murder game.

The other half referred to Raytheon and companies like them as Bombs and Destruction – as in I will never go to work for Bombs and Destruction. YEA them! By having and sticking by their morals, they limited their career choices and, often enough their pay. Death merchanting’s a big, big high salary gig, ya see.
I’m enjoying the hell out of painting in my kitchen BUT I need to lay a tarp of some sort down so’s I don’t fuck up my new floor. Coco’s enjoying the new set up too. This is her, at right, in one of her nests. I tote her Fancy Feast home in these half-boxes and, of course, they become her go to-chill spots.

Our girl's also quite keen, once more, on my bedroom. It's hers again (now that my sweet boy, Rocco's shuffled off this mortal coil) and she’s discovered the joys of laundry. That is, when I’m sorting and folding, she finds an item (or a whole stack) which appeals and plants her flag. This small mint green blanket is hers now.

Her other new deal is that, after she’s had brekkie, she zooms back upstairs. Pausing at the foot of the steps and then halfway up, she gives me meaningful looks, you’re coming too, right? It’s nap time!

Ah, if only.
What I should do in my spare time
(Yeah, like I have SO much of that shit)
  • Find a gallery to show and sell my paintings.
  • Start playing in the terra cotta again. I'd need to find buyers for my sculptures, tiles and dishware so's I can make the cabbage to pay for my clay habit. Also, if I sell them, I avoid having a basement full of dust collecting bowls, cups, plates and nude torsos.
  • Find venues who'll show AND sell my photography.
  • Collect all my best stories into book form and find a publisher.
  • Start that long put off Hokusai wave repro on my living room wall. Half the reason I paint murals is that I'm too lazy and sloppy to pant all the walls nice pale unobtrusive colors. Plus, I LIKE bright color's and I enjoy having a giant "canvas." Also too then I don't have to feel pressured to market the damn art.
Everything, apart from painting on my walls, comes back to selling myself. I HATE THAT SHIT!


  1. I've worked at nonprofits for the entire time I've been in law. But there's big money to be made in this industry if you don't mind helping oil and gas companies.

    We had a couple attorneys volunteer for us a couple weeks back whose usual gig is asbestos defense. That has to be right under "Kitten punching" on the morality tree.

    1. It must be ferociously tempting to disregard the horrors, to avoid thinking about complicity (after all, if you don't watch TV or read the paper, it can all be neatly sidestepped, right?) and take the Death Merchant's pay.

      Asbestos defense and kitten punching – hilarious in a whistling past the graveyard kind of away.