Yesterday, after careful consideration, I decided that I will get lyrics from "Alec Eiffel" tattooed on me somewhere. Probably my ribs. I mean, after getting a gassy skunk drilled in my armpit, everything else will be a piece of cake, right? Easy as pie?
I've been listening to the song a lot over the last few years and more than ever it's started to mean something to me (feelings, emotions, personal meaning...gross). People didn't want Eiffel to build the tower, they didn't understand his vision, they didn't understand why it had to be so large. And now...people travel from all over the stupid world just to see it.
"They didn't want it but he built it anyway". Sometimes you have to do what you set out to do...be who you are...even if no one backs you up. I know I said I didn't want meaning in any of my tattoos (just gut-busting humor and nuttiness) but it just fits. Bravo, Alexander.
I've decided that in addition to "The Organ Diners" and a few random "I felt like painting this particular nonsense", I'm going to do an additional collection based on the Disney princesses. A little sluttier and bloodier, of course. They'll go along with the overall creepy and kooky style of "The Organ Diners"...just a little less cartoony. There will be boobies for sure so don't think little Suzie is getting a portrait of Cinderella for her bedroom. Snow White, Ariel, Cinderella...those are on the top of my list right now. Suggestions? Hit me.
Phoebe is going with me to the gallery tonight to nail down a date for a solo show. I couldn't be more pumped. And nervous for some reason. Once I have the dates, I can plan out how many paintings I need to have a full show and how much time I can afford to spend on each. On the flip side...once I have dates...it's official. And what if my show is a failure? What if I don't sell even ONE piece??? My tummy is rumbley. Good thing I have Phoebe to talk me off the ledge.
In her honor, I smell like a waffle today.
Tomorrow starts a long weekend but it will probably be anything but chillaxing. We need groceries. We need to go to the dreaded Home Depot (dreaded because I hate the smell of lumber) because I need bedroom shelves. We need to sort out everything we can so it can make it out on trash day. Stuff I don't need must move out so stuff he must have can move in. There's a lot to be done. PLUS...as much painting as possible! I have a feeling we'll secretly be drinking margaritas out giant skull cups.
That's how we roll.
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