Art Attack Central

Fixing stuff, myself included…

Too Many

Why is it we have to make money? It can be such an annoyance when the available avenues for the making are not of my liking. Boy, is that a spoiled brat talking or what?

Why don’t you change what your doing, as in get a regular job of some kind?

I know, I just finished the MA, and now I’m supposed to do something with it, besides put it in the drawer. What’s happened is that I don’t see myself as a therapist, although I did when I began this “educational adventure.”

Who do you see yourself as?

I see myself as an artist and web designer, but I’ve got to tell you that I’m a terrible marketer/promoter. And really why do you care anyway?

I don’t care; I’m just that questioning voice in your head, remember?

Yeah, yeah, yeah… I remember already. I just feel frustrated and need to rant and rave a bit before I go schlepping off to paint another house, lug another 5 gal. paint bucket up a flight of stairs, or sand spackle off another ceiling. What I really need to do is make a major change in how I make a living, and I procrastinate, stew around, complain and whine, when I should be planning.

Planing what?

How to make a living being an artist. Yes I know that’s perhaps a little unrealistic, but what kind of world would it be if everyone was a realist? Hmm… maybe it would be a better world, i.e. CEO’s understanding the consequences and refraining from criminal acts. No one would need Oprah’s Dr. Phil, or a pill, and every battle would be fought downhill.

You’ve gone off the deep end again!

Well then, the world would be worse off without the dreamers; we would all be mired in analyzing every decision, and critical thinking would be a prerequisite of adulthood. Each and every one of us would be required to pass an examination of motives, desires and normalcy before being allowed to proceed. Okay you’re right I tipped over the edge, and I’m hanging on by one finger nail, and a short one at that. Do you think it means I’m not a dreamer if I need some sort of rationale?

I think it means you’ve misplaced a marble or two.

“The artist belongs to his work, not the work to the artist.”



“Designated driver, on the information highway.”

Tuesday Too # 24

Tuesday Too border= The Very Late Tuesday Too. I tried to publish to barrysworld this morning and severs were down. Had to go make a living painting houses today. Sorry to all those folks who were here looking earlier in the day.

1.) Is honesty always the best policy? Relate a plausible scenario where this might not be the case.

2.) Are you someone of who can’t say no? If you’re not, tell those of us who are, how to overcome the yes syndrome.

3.) What’s your remedy for sleepless nights?

Post your URL in the comment.


“Designated driver, on the information highway.”

Why Blog Derailment?

What exactly was it that made me run upstairs and start blogging on the recent Amtrak derailment on August 29th? I didn’t know anyone traveling by train from Chicago to D.C. on the 29th; I didn’t like the interruption of my soap opera with breaking news. I’m not a news freak, or someone obsessed with tragedy. In hindsight I think it had to do with an unconscious connection between trains traveling and our lives, a little like, “ships in the night”.

Life and trains?

Tracks, the patterns of tracks from an aerial view, connecting cars, coupling and uncoupling, moving from one place to another, all these things remind me of the life I journey through. My life is full of derailments of one kind or another; interrupted, delayed, canceled meetings and arrangements, failed relationships, all contributed to a sense of the unexpected. Maybe it’s more that we don’t expect the unexpected; we don’t live as if anything could happen anytime, as if love could be gone only minutes from now, as if the slightest ripple has meaning.

But, don’t children live that way?

I think they live that way until they “learn” what to expect. I’m not saying I shouldn’t expect anything; I’m saying, we lose something when we forget we really don’t know what’s going to happen when. Life would just be so f—ing intense; maybe it would be too scary, but when it wasn’t being scary, our own amazement would take us to places we can’t even imagine. I love to be amazed and in awe of the fact that I’m alive at all. Why don’t I feel that way all the time? Because I explain things to myself, and quickly move on to something else in my head. Get out of my head.

“Smash forehead on keyboard to continue.”



“Designated driver, on the information highway.”