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No news.

Yep. All this going on, and not one drop of angst. I can't tell if I've changed, or if this is just a by-product of life switching direction.

When you've got nothing going on, it feels easy to give in to other forces, just to see what happens.

And I've really put my next move into the hands of what ever force moves life. The more I think about it, the more I think I have changed.

There's no point in worring about what other people think of you, not gallery owners, not employers, no one, because you can't change how their eyes relate information back to their brain.

This feels like a fork, between painting and working. It feels like a test, but not one I can fail, because I've stopped believing in failure. There are only set backs. Yes, there are enough set backs to push you all the way away, but then you've given up, not failed.

. . .

I started a self portrait a really long time ago, and I just figured out why I can't finish it. It's not me anymore.

9:52 a.m. - 2003-02-28

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