So what if the sun refused to shine?

For some time I’ve been staring at the walls, old magazines, old photos, my toenails that need clipping, my backyard that needs cleaning, some dead batteries and wondering how I will get rid of them, and the dark sky above me in the hope that some esoteric thoughts will jump out of my head. Ah but to no avail. I seem to have lost my way for the moment. I’m not sorry. Yet I am trying to find words of wisdom, something exalted that will transcend the melancholy. The world is full of angst, uncertainty, despair, and ugliness.

The year is almost over, and so I ask myself what have I accomplished and what have I learned.  In few short time since my retirement I have produced some decent art work - decent in a sense that they are acceptable to me but likely not marketable.  Do I care?  Of course I do.  I take it personally.  So I question myself what is the point if I know my work will be futile.  My left brain tells me that I should spend my time in something more profitable but my right brain says otherwise.  What is profitable?  I need to define the word first.

I've given some art pieces to this owner of a bar at the next city and he has not contacted me since - so I'm thinking that he has put my work in storage.  Probably right next to the bleach and cleaning materials, which he uses to sanitize his place.  You see I was hoping that an avid art collector might see one of my art peices and buy it for whatever that person may think it is worth.  One thing will lead to another.  My work is seen by other collectors because this person is very famous and influential.  Other people try to buy my work from him but he realizes how much more it is worth. Overnight, I become a famous artist.  My phone is ringing every second.  People want to get hold of my other work.  I get hounded by the press requesting for interviews.  The media is interested in what jeans I wear and whether I wear boxer shorts or briefs.  A cereal company wants me to endorse their bran flakes.  A bunch of activists wants me to be their voice for promoting wind energy.  Al Gore wants to have dinner with me.  I get all freaked out that I try to escape the media and everybody else. I keep resisting.  Eventually, I dwell into bad craziness so I contemplate on suicide.  I sign my suicide note as Faust - fully convinced that I have sold my soul for a meaningless life. 

As usual, I am giving in to the melancholy.  An expensive indulgence if I may.  

Perhaps, next time I'll write something more positive.

#smoke #opium #woman #asian #smoking #conceptual #blur #pipe #textured 


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