I must say it almost feels like I’m falling apart. The expression “when it rains in pours” comes to mind only it doesn’t quite suit my situation. It feels more like a small drizzle that just won’t stop, it keeps tapping lightly at my skin, almost unnoticed, but is creating an accumulative effect of erosion. I am eroding.
First of all I’ll state that while I wouldn’t exactly describe my living conditions as ‘poverty” it is necessary for me to work under a very strict budget in order to subsist. As an artist with no real employer or gallery representation I never really know when or where the next cheque is going to come from. Fortunately there are few frivolous things I desire and am reasonably content as long as I’m well fed and have my artist’s supplies. In fact almost all of my belongings fit into a knapsack which I just replaced after an entire winter with holes and broken zippers.
I have been feeling kind of down lately and thought that a hearty meal and a bit of productivity would be the best cure for my blues tonight. So I went to the market and filled my new knapsack to the brim with groceries came home. had a nap and awoke ready for food and work. Somehow, and I can’t remember the last time that this happened as my whole life is in there, I have lost my new bag. I have lost my new bag, my fresh produce, my pens and my ink. It is 10 pm on a Friday night and everything is gone. Like I said I’m not exactly destitute and can replace most of these things tomorrow but tonight I am without. Just like that my dinner, my supplies and my new bag, gone.As I metioned I don't exactly live in poverty but I am not wealthy either.
It all sounds so trivial when I put it on paper but add the fact that some one has taken up smoking in these non-smoking shared accommodations, I really just don’t feel well. Every few hours and particularly late at night my room is filled with grey nausea and yet it seems difficult to identify the culprit. Once the smoke gets in your nose everything smells like that and it becomes very difficult to trace the source. Nothing tragic or grandeur to excite the reader or even really worth while to complain about, it is just all sorts of little things wearing at me, drizzling. I was so looking forward to that fresh salad. I was so tired of the old knapsack with holes in it and it really wasn’t in the budget to replace the two $40 pens and a $25 bottle of ink I carry around with me. Ah yes, right on schedule, now I can smell the cigarette smoke coming up through the vent again.
I don’t even have any right to record this silliness but I can’t draw any pictures again tonight, I can’t refresh myself with a big meal and I have no other means of distractive productivity. Maybe I can look back at this post and laugh in the morning? Maybe everything is going to be just fine? Maybe I will be younger tomorrow than I am today? Maybe, I am eroding.
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