I soaked my feet in water so hot my whole body broke into a sweat. I had to wipe the condensation from between my breasts more than once as I sat there and enjoyed the heat.
I drank a beer, and read Bill T. Jones.
I thought about art, and I thought about choices.
I just deleted 5 long paragraphs that basically said - i feel like an artist and i like it. i hope i don't fuck everything up by going mainstream money-chaser on myself. again.
It's hard to be poor, it really is. This is when believing in god comes in handy, i bet.
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