Portraits of Mao as a Girl When He Swims Toward the Surface and Dwells at the Bottom

If I Was a Girl Mao, This Is How I'd Look to My Enemies Near SurfaceIf I Was a Girl Mao, This is How I'd Look to My Enemies at the Bottom

I believe it’s nearly time for another exhibition. Though I have no extra dough for appearances. Framing is expensive. Promotional advertising nearly impossible printed beside men who bathe in tar and nicotine and sell tires to pay for cable TV. Radio is Clear Channely always good news. Even the public station now promotes the gas industry because the gas industry promotes public radio.

I need ideas. I have no illusions. Art doesn’t pay, a lot. But it could dole out even meager sums if exposed to the “right” eyes. Those people who need never worry about the price of new tires. Gas men with a sense of history and humor. Millionaire couples who take long drives through economically depressed northern counties in winter, blind knocking on doors, seeking painters who stubbornly make absurdity out of adversity for a living.

These works are priced right. No one could accuse me of exorbitance.

I am earnest in my request for ideas. How does a painter get paid a restaurant dishwasher’s salary in a super economy? I can fill any room with work. Even a Super Bowl if goaded. I cannot risk another thousand dollar investment to hang paintings up in a room in a city that will spend the evening watching sweat drip from jockstraps of men with flabby mind muscles as they bash each other’s brains in for 12,000 times a dishwasher’s salary.

Meanwhile, buy one of these books:

Moonlight in Groundspruce Woods

Leopold Courting Rose

Cookbook For The Poor

Last Communion

They appear at Amazon too for international curiosity seekers.


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