Or perhaps further southwest.
Distraction is driving me to improvise. My ideas are under an onslaught, on strike. A big fuck you to this project. My life beyond my art is threatening my peaceful function as artist living in my own world and it is sucking the life out of my sharpie. and me.
I would tell you more, but that would be admitting to things I don't even talk to myself about. Part of the problem really.
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