03 November 2005

Deflation

I'm grinding my teeth.

The battle with the Heart Of A Poet people is coming to a close, but there didn't ever have to be a battle in the first place. It was an energy-sucking experience that I didn't need. Business and contracts: they make me sick. This whole thing has me so soured that I haven't wanted to watch the DVD of the show that I finally wrenched out of them. I'm confident that it's good; I just don't feel like watching it.

Last week Maureen sent me a form-letter invitation to the launch party for the show. Don't think I'll attend.

I'm grinding my teeth.

Today I received my copy of YYZINE in the mail. I was so excited about this project:: YYZ Artists Outlet asked me to create a 4-page work for their tabloid zine, as they ask of an artist for each issue. I worked hard on Dead Cars In Managua, a project that's been on my mind for about 15 years. I was so looking forward to getting a big batch of copies and sending them to friends I met in Nicaragua.

Anyway, they left my name and the title of the piece off my pages.

Today the curator who hired me on invited me to their launch, which is tomorrow night. Don't think I'll attend.

Well, they're supposed to pay me a good chunk of money. So there's that.

I hope the cheque comes soon.

Stuart

2 Comments:

At November 03, 2005 3:40 pm , Anonymous Anonymous said...

Don't grind your teeth. Everytime some one grinds their teeth, an orthodontist dies...

 
At November 03, 2005 4:00 pm , Anonymous rox. said...

sorry stu. don't take it personal. who said people are perfekt? i say grind away...if it helps. grind all the bogeymen into the ground. from taxmen to moviemen to taxidermists to publishers to landlords to overlords to underlords and orthodonists and the banker barons across the universe...dust to dust, ashes to ashes. mistake is the father of invention. plenty of parties where they came from. better parties. parties where they put your name in lights and spell it right. parties where the drinks are free, they close the bar when you've had enough, and they treat you like a poetry god. those are the days...i'll see you there.

 

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