6/22 or 20 fucking 3; who cares?

I’m in panic mode. I went to the Triple Rock to set up around the side but was told I couldn’t. They were cool and said I could hang out ’til the liquor store next door closed and then set up over there. But it was supposed to close at 8 and never did. I came over to Memory Lanes to try and set up for the show here but no one’s going to be here, I don’t want to set up in the parking lot and I don’t want to have to go inside, muster up the courage to find out who to ask, find the courage to actually ask, risk rejection, and – even if successful – take the time to set up only to discover that turnout is even worse than expected, sell nothing, feel weird about painting at this random show – all the while – not being able to listen to the music I want to listen to (which is one of the most important parts of my “trying to feel better” process).

I can’t do a lot of the work that I need to do with updates and my website because I don’t have wifi access for my computer and I can’t do a lot of that stuff on my phone. I hate spending time driving to places that have wifi and then doing that stuff in public because I’m a fucking weirdo and I have anxiety about everything. I could call a friend and ask to come over but I don’t like asking anyone for anything.

Part of me wants to hit the road for Chicago because I know my friends there will welcome me but I still don’t like the idea of being dependent on anyone for anything and I don’t like feeling intrusive even when I’m assured that I’m not. I’ve also yet to hit any galleries in Minneapolis because none of them are open until Tuesday, Wednesday, or Thursday. So it seems dumb to leave before then. But there are more galleries in more cities than I could ever hope to get into so maybe that doesn’t matter.

Even though I don’t want to live in any one city and (most of the time) like living the way that I do… right now I kind of wish that I just had a home. And I really don’t like that I feel that way.

I don’t know what to do with myself. If I were on my own, I’d probably just hide in the back of my van for a while but I have Chris with me and you can’t hide when someone is sitting right there with you. And I’m glad Chris is with me but sometimes it forces me to make better decisions when I don’t WANT to make better decisions. And other times (right now, for example) it puts me in a place of total indecision. I act differently when someone is “watching” me. I don’t know what the fuck that means or what I’m trying to say. Really, I’m scared that he’s gonna interpret some of this as meaning that I don’t want him with me anymore, even though that’s not the case and even though I can just turn the fuck around in the chair I’m sitting in and tell him so. WHICH I’LL DO ‘CAUSE IT’S FUCKING WEIRD TO WRITE ABOUT SOMEONE ON THE INTERNET WHEN YOU’RE SITTING RIGHT FUCKING NEXT TO THEM. Why do I even write these weird random public journal entries?

‘Cause I want attention! Me! Look at me!

Fuck.

I’m gonna postpone doing my computer bullshit, drive the fuck back over to the Triple Rock, hope that the fucking liquor store is closed, set up my god damn print table, and work on my new fucking painting. And it’s all gonna go kinda poorly because that’s what happens when my head is in a bad place. I do well when I’m SMILING. When I’m genuinely happy. Nobody gives a fuck about some miserable little shit. No one wants to talk to or buy art from someone that looks unhappy.

What the fuck is wrong with me?? I have literally ZERO problems. Fuck. I need something to snap me out of this. It doesn’t take much but I never know ahead of time what it’s going to (or needs to) be.

If I were on my computer, this is where I’d embed an audio stream of Sass Dragons’ “Diaper Baby.”

“I don’t care – I want attention; it doesn’t matter where it comes from. I’m as needy as the day I was born. Like a crying baby: ‘Somebody change me!’ and tell me just what I’ve become.”