I wish I could be the kind of person who says,"I'm sorry. That painting is not for sale." Everything is for sale. I cannot afford to be sentimental. I have left my one of a kind framed collages all over San Antonio. I have donated paintings and collages to the Dumpster. I have donated paintings and collages to art galleries. I left a bag filled with framed collages in my ex fuck buddy's truck. I told him he can trash them. That's how much I never want to see him again. I do not get attached to material possessions. I get attached to people.
Yesterday I sold a bag of books to Half-Price for $25. Now I can pay my electricity bill. I'm still dreaming of this house I will never possess. It's Mediterranean. There is a library downstairs with stained glass windows. There is a marble garden tub in the master bath. You know damn well there's a pool with a waterfall in the backyard. There aren't a bunch of knick knacks. There's no piano. No porcelain angels. No cute heartwarming cross-stitched bullshit sayings framed and hanging on the kitchen wall. "Home Is Where The Heart Is." Bull fucking shit! You won't find any cats, dogs, fish, salamanders, monkeys or gerbils in my dream home. You won't find any shitty art unless it's mine. No Thomas Kinkade. No Christian Riese Lassen. No Twilight posters. No Ricky Martin posters. No posters of any kind.
In the last e-mail I sent my ex fuck buddy I told him I don't give a shit how good his art is. I called him a pendejo. I shouldn't have been so harsh. Pluto in Libra in the second tightly squares my Mars in Capricorn in the fifth. That's no excuse. I should be nicer. I fucking hate the word "nice." It's so meaningless. I should be more meaningless in my communication. I strive for bland neutrality. I don't burn bridges. I burn villages. I would like very much to make a trek in the Andes and overcome such tendencies. If I have to be brutal I should be brutal only with myself. Is that wisdom? I hope so. Knowing is one thing...executing is something else. God. I want to get it right.
This is just to say I struggle. Mightily. Not with possessions. With myself.
Yesterday I sold a bag of books to Half-Price for $25. Now I can pay my electricity bill. I'm still dreaming of this house I will never possess. It's Mediterranean. There is a library downstairs with stained glass windows. There is a marble garden tub in the master bath. You know damn well there's a pool with a waterfall in the backyard. There aren't a bunch of knick knacks. There's no piano. No porcelain angels. No cute heartwarming cross-stitched bullshit sayings framed and hanging on the kitchen wall. "Home Is Where The Heart Is." Bull fucking shit! You won't find any cats, dogs, fish, salamanders, monkeys or gerbils in my dream home. You won't find any shitty art unless it's mine. No Thomas Kinkade. No Christian Riese Lassen. No Twilight posters. No Ricky Martin posters. No posters of any kind.
In the last e-mail I sent my ex fuck buddy I told him I don't give a shit how good his art is. I called him a pendejo. I shouldn't have been so harsh. Pluto in Libra in the second tightly squares my Mars in Capricorn in the fifth. That's no excuse. I should be nicer. I fucking hate the word "nice." It's so meaningless. I should be more meaningless in my communication. I strive for bland neutrality. I don't burn bridges. I burn villages. I would like very much to make a trek in the Andes and overcome such tendencies. If I have to be brutal I should be brutal only with myself. Is that wisdom? I hope so. Knowing is one thing...executing is something else. God. I want to get it right.
This is just to say I struggle. Mightily. Not with possessions. With myself.
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