Still on the Edge in Sumas

I found my ladder fabricator for the bus. Grizzled liberal character in Bellingham that Pat referred me to. His work is "the shit" according to Pat. If his shop is any hint, I believe him. Cost is $500 max (not including a rack). Practically what we paid for the bus, but still not bad.

Found myself a real lawyer, a defense attorney that wants a $500 retainer to defend me in court. So it goes. I called at least eight attorneys total. Got every story in the range, from "a phone call to the prosecuter should get you off the hook" to "they got you, plead guilty and hope the state doesn't upgrade the charges to felony posession with intent to sell". Unbelievable; I unknowingly carried six 222 (codeine) pills across the US border, and they're after me with pitchforks. I wonder if there ever was a day when lawyers went to work to try to help people.

Meanwhile Mark is out of a job, and was going to start the new drug cocktail until his health took a turn south. Seems pretty minor so far, though I think its a good time to not start a new pill regimen. Tomorrow we're off to Las Vegas Land of Landfill for some fun (shudder) and a NAPWA conference. Nat'l Org of People With AIDS...he doesn't feel bad enough to skip the trip, so fingers are firmly crossed. I guess the newest plan is to start the new drugs when we get back in a week.

Still slapping myself up silly for smoking so much, trying to cut down. Also caffiene. And get this, today I actually berated myself for having to many negative thoughts. Who needs religion when the voices in your head keep telling you what a shit you are for having no self discipline. And what kind of cheese to go with that whine...

I've been obsessing on Keith Harring's work again, when not obsessing on my own mortality or Marks. Some of my favorite doodles lately have been inspired by his serpentine wiggle worms and stick figures with holes in their groins. As usual, the trouble is that as soon as I see his work I have to build on it, rather than simply copy it. And these days the obvious question is how to construct my own imaginings in THIS reality, within a context as simple--and as powerful--as his.

I am not that brilliant, and if I were I could never be a quarter as prolific. But I know I'm on to something big when I see the response people have to the art car.


That's Michelle's fabulous Gypsy Caravan behind it. Like them or hate them, people notice an artcar. I think society is still years away from, "Ho hum, another artcar...yawn". Most folks don't see it as art at all (maybe an art-sore?). Oh well maybe it hurts some, but the message is there for all who are interested enough to read, or young enough to giggle. I've said it before but the beauty is in the fact that we're out of the gallery; we're literally in the street! Hopefully I'll scratch the veneer of indifference in passers-by, just enough to allow them to see outside of themselves, if only for an instant. If not transcendence, at least a momentary relief from all that mass production! Then one day, time permitting...an American art bus, if you will. Done up in style...practical, beautiful, and a whore for attention...just like me. Choir boys unite!