Call Me Useless

I honestly don’t know how I’m getting anything done, at all. The things I should have started on or finished in these past two months are staggering — at least to me. I guess I have a good excuse.

Between visitors, my daily radiation (which ends Monday let us hope!), being tired, and the oppressing heat, I can barely keep my damn apartment clean. I can get rather Joan Crawford/Duchess of Windsor about the cleaning so you know that isn’t the best of signs when my own mom comes to visit and I don’t bother with the full scrub down of the place. I was all excited about the new art series I was going to start; I began the research, bought canvas, was pulling images and sketching, but the thought of picking up a pencil these days makes me want to vomit. I’m finishing one of my commissions and am trying best just to concentrate on that for now, but being a little art-making machine, that ain’t happening at all. The thought of drawing? I hate the idea of even doing it at all. It is hard to accept the fact the art stuff is going to have to be on hold for another month or so before I even want to function. I’m currently reading 3 books on and off again, but even that is too much of a commitment. Watching a movie is something I can only do in stages before I nod off or get extremely bored for whatever reason. After finding out I had cancer and that it was, “aggressive but manageable” I kept saying that I would not let the stupid thing interfere with my daily life or responsibilities. Well, it did.

I have no shows lined up for the first time in years; no galleries so far want the new series I have planned; I haven’t done jack in a month or more; I’ve gotten somewhat fat, and I’m mildly stabby. I feel like a total loser. I feel like Goldie Hawn before she drinks the potion in “Death Becomes Her”, with the cats farting and all. I’m not eating cake icing out of the container — that’s a plus. In essence, this summer did not go as planned at all, and I’m pissed!

Maybe I’ve been having too much contact with the outside world and too many distractions. So starting today, I’m going to ignore all correspondence for a month (it has gotten out of control since people found out about my illness) and I’m going to make myself be agoraphobic for a bit and not go out. Figure maybe then, it’ll force me to get some of this stuff done and be mildly productive.

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