on being an artist

a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...

okay, it seems far away. in reality, it was about 10 years ago. i had a dream. i had a dream of being a painter.

a real painter. no flowers-and-fruit-to-match-your-fcukin'-sofa type of artist. i was going to have substance and meaning. i was going to shake up people's perceptions grounded in this earth and on a metaphysical plane. an artist who needed to paint like others needed to breathe.

it turns out i really just liked having angry debates, smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee.

i guess there's still a glimmer of that girl inside me. only she is a non-smoker now and a little less angry. but i still like strong, dark coffee.