Someone tell please tell how I’m supposed to feel! …Ha ha. I just thought I’d start off a blog post like that. I am becoming more and more out of my mind, after all. Homer Simpson said that once and it always struck me as very funny. But anyway, The Exodus Project installation is now out of the way. And so are several other things, like the book for one — even though I keep sneaking in there to add tidbits before it gets picked out of Dropbox to be edited — but I’m pretty sure I’m finished with all that. I am moving on now. That’s hardly funny. I wanted to be funny.

I decided to work on something else. I haven’t started it yet because I’m waiting to formulate the main character in my mind. The next book is going to be fictional and I think it’s going to be more than one book too. Sort of like The Adventures of ____ ____, or some such sort of vibe. In the meantime, art is kind of on hold, just until my emotions aren’t running so rampant. I’m only interested in finishing things I started, like the Artist’s Book, the Spark, and the oil painting of the turtle house.

I was able to work a bit on the turtle house on Monday. It’s not much, but here it is now, still in progress:

In my next book(s) I’m thinking of making my main fictional character an artist, like me, only better. Not bionic, but better. I think I’ll continue to write in the first person in the same way that Charles Bukowski wrote his character, “Henry Chinaski,” but of course, I wouldn’t want to try to write in his style in anyway. That’s impossible. The story lines would probably be a lot more fantastical than my real life too. He has a few short stories where he went a bit surreal. My old writing is serreal and I would like to freshen that up. One of my favorite Bukowski short stories is called …? I can’t find it, but it’s about an angel who is a baseball player that has fucked up paper wings.

I am so glad to have the installation out of my hair! I’ve probably already mentioned that. The only thing left is to get through the opening reception. Gah!

I really don’t know how I’ll do, socially. I have been doing a little bit of one on one here and there and have been okay. I say that, but I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m “okay.” I still feel like I’m moving through one minute to the next, slowly. The only way to stop it is to completely medicate myself to the point of nearly passing out. Then I don’t feel anything at all. I can’t keep doing that. I think overall…I’m having longer stints of feeling better. I don’t want to jinx it though, or speak too soon, or what have you. I’m not trying to be a pessimist either. If I can get through almost an entire day without breaking down, then wow! Progress. I realize my problems are unimportant in the scheme of things. I know that. And I feel pretty selfish for complaining, though I haven’t aired what my problems are specifically aside from the book.

Right now I am trying to block out two to three weeks where I will have absolutely nothing on my calendar. Every single day, and I’m not exaggerating, I spend a good four hours on hold and/or calling doctors’ offices…<snip> I just erased three long paragraphs of me typing, complaining about my healthcare. My doctors, my insurance, and medications. It was so boring you would have accidentally passed out, fallen down the steps and lost your shoes.

Soon, I’ll be running out of things to be stressed out about. I’m really looking forward to that. Then I really have to address this weight problem.