I feel so defeated about my art. I've got these demons around me whispering about what the point to all this is. I havn't produced a completed piece in ages. Everything seems to be dabbles. Dabbles here, dabbles there. I want to get back to that place where I was making art for me. I want to scream out my emotions onto the canvas. I want to be able to paint out my sollitude as well as I paint out my angst. I want to not paint for approval by others, once more. I don't even know where the hell this entry came from. I was surfing around the net, and "wham!" here I was typing almost before I even realized there were words appearing on the screen.

I thought I had found the church I was going to approach about donating my creation pieces to but then found out their is almost no wall space. It's all windows and glass for the incredible views. It will appear. It was rustic and simple in my vision, adobe earthen walls.

I'm sipping on iced lemon ginger tea. Lemon and ginger seem to be able to make all right as rain.

I want Habibi to come and ravish my body.

I want to not be an idiot any more.

This time, two days from now I'll be watching Madonna, live, in person. I could care less. I'm in full fledged hermit mode and want to stay here and paint till something worth while comes forth.