Life in the desert ain’t that deserted. Not since I moved into the paintin’ shack in the Historic Distinct. There are tourists a plenty and the locals are barkin’ tryin’ to lure people into whatever attraction they have goin’. Stage coaches and staged gunfights abound. It’s a carnival that forgot to keep moving and all of it is right outside my front door.
Inside the doors of the studio the music is pumpin’, the paint is flyin’ and my dog is bouncin’ around like a drunkin’ lemur …the whole mess is a fuckin’ freak show and I am the Grand Master!
I never in all my years I thought I would be nose to the grindstone, never mind slavin’ away in a town like Tombstone. Life ain’t grand here but it sure don’t suck. I’ve lived in worse places and my life has been a lot worse, so I’ll stick around for a while.
I ain’t got no reason to leave and that’s enough incentive for me to stick it out for a bit, paint some pictures and just fuckin’ relax…when I have the time. Since I actually started takin’ the paintin’ gig seriously things have been slammin’. Work passin’ through the studio faster than I can keep up with it. Construction on the studio continues as I try to make it a home and the Latowski sits on a stand waiting for me to have the time to work on her. Working with charcoals on expensive paper means you can’t have oil on your hands or it will stain the paper. Another reason to keep my speed up on the work at hand. Finish a charcoal and I get to work on the bike. Big incentive!
I got this town more or less rigged. I know where to eat, do laundry, get cigarettes and take a shower while I wait for an inspection so that I can take a hot shower in the stall I just installed. It’s a small town but it wasn’t easy settin’ up a life…never mind settin’ up a life here!
There only a few women here worth the pursuit and eighty drunkin’ cowboys tryin’ to get into those squirrel covers. This is a venture I don’t want to get involved in so I just put pussy on the back burner and just work. Maybe something will come along, maybe it won’t, in the mean time I have a series to get together and a town council to fight so my days are pretty full…even without chasin’ skirts.
Politics here, at least my politics are as follows….my backyard is clear; want to find out, just try messin’ it up. Everybody else seems to have “big fish in a small pond” syndrome. That’s their problem, ain’t cause for my concern! Nice and simple with a .40 to back it up…and it’s legal!
Most of the stress that might drive a normal man batty would be the inane dialog that constitutes as interesting conversation is about as deep as a tea spoon. I think that might be where my introversion towards the outside world and my maniacal work ethics in the days of late are my life rafts that keep me from drowning in this sea of banality.
It’s slow, nothing happens and everybody is talking about it. The days unending are filled with conversations of damn near what constitutes as absolutely…not fuck all. Pure lunacy I tell you and it’s never ending….ever!
People get pushed around or fall into some type of unique addiction. They hit a psychological impasse and either fall off the deep end or are able to pull it all together and keep it tight. Ever wonder why there is so many people out in the desert with high fences and high powered weapons? They are keeping it tight.
Now I got my work and that’s keeping me sane. I would be lost without it. This is the perfect place to dive into something like I am diving into because the rest of the town doesn’t matter. After a few months of livin’ here you realize it. The only way to keep everything in check is to constantly check yourself.
If you are able to keep it together you may just be able to find your Nirvana…if not, your demise is waiting right around the corner. Happy trails…”GTP”