This is where real life kicks in. Here the artist, no matter how inspired, must switch gears to accomodate last minute schedule changes and pick up Orion, take a dozen packages to the Post Office and stop by the market, same three-year-old dynamo in tow. Didn't I mention something earlier about food?
This stuff happens. It's not glamourous, but who ever said being an artist is? The shows are nice, but the creative hours are peppered with down-to-earth everyday have-tos. Then, if the everyday wasn't there, it's likely the art would be lacking some of its punch.
Food, finishing up the rat orders that came in today, tearing up lots of paper, then a rest and coffee and back to it. It's poised, I think, for a good session, waiting for me to come back and find out who, what he is. I do know this already--he's evil.