God I'll be glad when this year is over.
Still not working; still afraid my life is wasted.
-When my mate Kat rings, saying that Philip C. is in her gallery with two of my pictures that hes found in a dustbin.
All true. Trace everything back to an error on the part of R and A = he was supposed to take them to store with the others in the garage, didnt pack them, they got junked later. Or something. Nothing else involved honest. How do I know, I churn out so much stuff (except for the last x months) and I entrust them to other people to deal with. God know what happens.
On the one hand, delighted to find I do care. On the other, sense of self-worth as an artist trashed totally.
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