Must! Continue! Making! Art! ...aaaahhhh!

Though, this submission may not influence the average man or woman much, I do believe a few of us less than optimistic artists strruggle from time to time with perseverance.
There is a terrible amount to do. What with juried shows, group shows, solo Shows, calls to artists, open shows, open studios, online applications, application fees, Grad school searches, grad school applications bring us directly to dealing with schools, former professors, references, letters of recommendation, fellowships, T.A. positions, gallery sucking-up-tos, placating of patrons, let's not forget to dwell on making art, but finding cost-effective means for presentation, documentation and reviews, websites, geocities deleting our free websites (*shakes fist), curriculum vitae, e-mails, bloody artist's statements, catering, show cards, s/h, price lists, haggling with buyers, lacking buyers, and pushing the artistic envelope, being a professional artist can definitely seem complicated.
I want to stay in bed this afternoon. :} I'll get up though, don the black, and make my way. After all, the strong die, but not before the weak.

PICTURES! YEAH!

I have finally gotten around to photographing some older work. These pastels were created ~2003–2004, during art school. They were painted in the late Ross Zirkle's life drawing class.

A Sssober Artist

I believe that i am, truly, not a sober artist. As i coordinate this :blog, "hindered" by alcohol, directly having painted the msot part (nearly 80%?) of a new painting, i dawn on this realisation. Perhaps, most of my "good" work (the work masses enjoy, as opposed to the work I enjoy) came in to existence in a likewise state.
Tonight, i danced with two married women. T'was an odd occurance, i assume, though it lent me a perspective i did not have before. People tend to decide upn their whiles from perspectives hingeing on common situations. Meaning these two married folk had decided they had found their better halves, yet tonight, they found themselves grinding on my companions and i boasting (or reminding themselves?) they were married.
Tonight, i fing myself verbose. Nearly too drunk to type, perhaps too drunk to think as i should. I realise, however, i am not "drunk dialing" ex-s, and i am completeing (or nearly so) paintings (those things /hobbies /work i truly wish to spend my time). I have decided to no edit this posting so that i might, later on, read this drunken rabble. I've noticed that, while in this state, new perspectives reached seldom appear.
How am i to paint hindered so? Have i bethroved myself to ideal and dogma so to stifle what is only natural and artistic? Perhaps, tomorrow, I will think clearer on the matter!