Haggered

     deadpool came out this weekend. That is I pulled out the super hero costume of deadpool that my brother purchased for his super hero reality TV show. Deadpool is actually quite good at a party.
      Now my eyes burn, I have a constant heart burn burn, and my head feels distant and fuzzy. I have things to do. I am leaving town if I can just wrap some things up. Don't know when I will run out of money. That is taking a trip to Seattle sounds pricey.
      Maybe this is going to take a few days to put together. It would help if I made a list. And clean the bus. I had a few paintings in storage. Got them back. I am stuffed to the brim. The bus is a mess. And I have not done laundry for weeks. I should probably take a moment, reassess. Breath. Figure out a plan.
      That is what I need. Need to find a way to make this life work. I have written into the clause of my schemes that the more desperate my situation becomes, the more I will desperately work to make it happen. But what that actually looks like. That, me stepping up my game, the constant creation of art on a sale able level, that, no quarter, dreams or bust. Maybe it is just this ragged dude with dirty clothes on, walking down a bright street with a heavy pack and a canvas in hand.  It is making it through one more day, some you can wake up and make it through another one.
      It is good to know. Dreams are dirty. They wear you down and spit you out spiraling off in strange directions. They hurt because they change you. Make you have to be what is needed.
       All I want to do is to be able to paint. But in order to do that I have to sell my self to the world as a painter. I need to fulfill the worlds expectations of who and what I am. And I need to reach that audience. So what is this dirty, scuzzy broke bum prepared to do to succeed. The artist in me is fine. He has always been there, abiding. this is a job for someone who can act quick without doubt, while still recognizing the whole picture. This is a job for Deadpool.
      The world has changed me. In my hunger to do what I want. To funnel some of this paper power down my gullet. To get my little piece in this american pie of wealth and comfort, I have fostered a monster. A creature within, an self reflective mutant villain in red and black spandex.
      Good thing it is a Deadpool outfit and not Cap America or some chode like that.