Good morning, mes amis. Happy Fucking Saturday. Brian is making another coffee, Mom is on the patio with a cigarette, the cats are lounging, and I’m typing.
I don’t want to get too excited, but we still have fucking wifi.
Yesterday was decent. Even though I wasn’t in the mood at all, I went outside for a little while. I didn’t push myself to do shit, but I refused to spend all day in the living room. I brought Chaucer out to chase a young anole around the patio. The anole escaped unscathed once again.
After lunch, I painted for an hour or so. I did a little more work on the Sic Mundus church, and finished working on the Saskatchewan grain elevator. I signed the completed painting, which means that even though I forgot a shadow and it’s driving me nuts, I put it in the box of things I’m sending to Shawshank next week. My mother suggested he put it in the property owner’s mailbox.
However, I mostly worked on the latest project, an actual commission. I’m working on a painting of the Marshall Point Lighthouse in Maine. I’m terrified of fucking it up. At the same time, I really, really didn’t want to do another plain blue sky.
We haven’t yet worked out a price, because I have no idea what to charge. Since she’s a friend and my first actual paying customer, I’m going on a “pay what you think it’s worth” deal.
I understand this is a shitty business model. Don’t expect the same treatment.
