OUT OF THE GUTTER ART
oh so WHITE AND SHINY... Waiting for my pen, for my brush. I just cant stand the barrenness of it, stretching of into the infinite distance, saying nothing. I cant sit in silence either, in a social setting. I would be awful in an interrogation, babbling mindlessly- wait... not mindlessly. I do get chatty, but …
"...maybe all artists...go thru periods of feast followed by famine..."
There are months when I sail along. Then there was April. Ouch. Work in Progress: The Old Grove Bipolar Disorder has a whole bag of tricks it can put to use on me, it used all of them. I let myself believe I didn't need more than 3 hours sleep per night. In fact, thot …
"...walking into the sunlight of my artistic future!"
"I will flay myself alive...peeling off each layer to offer up to the powers that be..."
"...I'll look outside for a hippo to wrestle..."
"I am just a memory, dead in the dust, gone like the wisp of smoke that curled from the tip of the gun that killed me..."
"We chased the sidewinder, ran with roadrunners. Our feet bled walking empty highways...riding empty boxcars..."
"...Poor, poor Chris...I guess maybe your train finally came..."
"first things first...do not give up..."
SUSAN TODD MARTIN 
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