Tag Archives: selling art

Right Brain Tidbits: All Over the Place

19 Jun

Gosh, I’ve been sucked in again. That darned Bravo! Are there subliminal messages in their programming? I’m betting on the young guy with the makeshift screenprint gadget thingy. I knew the first one eliminated would be the first one to be eliminated. Her stuff was, like, super bland.

I’m taking today off to detox some body parts and gear up for NYC. Once I hit the pavement there I will be lugging and begging panhandling selling art. It’s the ONE TIME in my life I need to have a “best friend” in the city. Speaking of which, I hope the seat next to me coming and going on the bus will be empty. No strange guy with a tank top and long blonde arm hairs brushing up against my anything. No coughers. No sneezers. No talkers. No snorers. No gum poppers. No finger lickers after a noisy bag of Cheetos. No cell phone abusers. No loud IPod users. No shoulder sores. I loathe shoulder-to-shoulder anything.

I’m such a person. I admit it.

Note to self: Work on tolerance.

Another note to self: Get focused. Stay focused.

I’ve been fretting lately because I’ve got so many projects/ideas and I can only get to but so many of them without the proper finances. Gosh, does a lack of enough money always have to be a monkeywrench? It hurts to see rich people do basically nothing with their fortune. That’s why I like givers. Givers rule. Givers make the world go ’round. Givers have souls. Givers are God’s angels.

Oy. I realize it, yes. I realize that Oprah will be ending her show in September 2011. Of course it saddens me because, well, just like so many of you I have become attached to Oprah. I mean, come on, we’ve watched her since 1986. 1986.

That’s like a gazillion years. Sure, she’s starting that OWN network, sure. I know. I know. But it’s not the same. I always, always thought I’d get on her show before she went off the air and I assumed that she wouldn’t be leaving until she was at least 60-ish. But there she goes. I’m hoping my book makes it on her regular show before it’s capoot. I know it’s lofty thinking but I’ve made it a goal. Sure, there will be limited shows stuffed full of flashbacks and current events and all that but I still believe I will make it on there. The book? It’s about the working life. That’s all I can say. I’ve been banned from talking about it over the internet until, naturally, it’s published and I’m promoting it. I’ve already pictured Oprah reading from it with bookmarks strategically placed in her favorite parts. She’ll so relate to it. So will millions of others. I’m feeling hopeful today. Work with me.

Toes. Legs. Hurt.

25 May

So now that it’s warmer I’ve been canvassing the D.C. area selling art on foot.   Oy. The Pain.  Gosh, I’m merely walking–WHY AM I SO SORE AT THE END OF THE DAY?! It’s not like I’m climbing cliffs or scaling buildings. I’M WALKING OVER HERE. Eeeesh.

My toes hurt. My ankles hurt. My legs hurt–sections of my thighs hurt. I think I felt a pain in my kneecap last week. Sometimes my back hurts or my shoulders because I usually don’t realize I’ve had them scrunched up around my neck for most of the day while I smile that Cheshire the Cat grin at total strangers who I desperately need to purchase the art already.

Truthfully, my ultimate goal right now is to buy a house that works for me. Quiet. Peaceful. No mortgage is the goal. Yep, I said it. Let it marinate in the juices of your comprehension. It’s possible, so why not? I refuse to let a 30-year, bank owned, The Man controlled, mounting interest evilness loom over me into the prime of my life. No way, Jose, eh-eh. Not this artist. I need stability, dang-it. I need fresh produce and a longterm bed and gentle neighbors and a art room and–well, you get the picture.

By the way, epsom salt rocks.