Rewind a bit, prior to my library dancing to the tune of disco inferno, I had found an old framed photo of myself in my garage.
Nothing particularly remarkable about it other than the fact it was gathering dust. And to what I distinctly remember thinking to myself, "What a fitting analogy!"
For you see, good reader, there is a hard truth I must come to terms with. My hiatus here hasn't been for a lack of free time or me being bored with making this. Truth is other than family there is hardly anything else in the world I'd rather spend time on than making art.
Art, of course, being a highly subjective term for anyone who is familiar with this book.
I digress, the nature of my demon is guilt. You could give me an infinite amount of time to make any number of infinite things. But if I am not gainfully employed, with a wife and daughter, how could I not feel guilty doing so.
Sure, my spouse works, we're financially stable, and I am looking after my daughter all the livelong day but still the beast looms over me.
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On the other hand, I don't make art. And I end up doing what? Yup, you guessed it, gathering dust, I suppose.
The upshot to all this, good reader, is that I don't know. And while many of my writings may seemingly come from one with the tone of having answers, assuredly, I do not. I do not know what to do. I do not know what to feel. I do not know what is the right course to take.
But the main thing is that I'll be “okay.” I don't got the biggest problem in the world. And there are plenty folks who'd happily swap my shoes for their stack of troubles.
And so, to quote a melted chuck of vinyl where my shed used to be: “Now baby, listen baby, don't ya treat me this-a way — 'Cause I'll be back on my feet some day.”
Lenwood S. Sharpe, Director
Lumberwoods, Unnatural History Museum
Parts Unknown, The Woods, U.S.A.
UPDATES: So, a bit of upkeep here and there. I completed THIS THING did a bit of THAT THING. And in the future, between this and another thang, I think I'll take a much-needed nap.
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