Friday night

Here it is Six o'clock on a Friday evening and I'm still in the studio. There's half of me that's screaming to get out and go to one of three happy hours, but yet I'm still here. I'll probably still be here at nine o'clock. Although I know it's a good thing (I have a lot of work to do), I still have the feeling that I'm missing something. Although there are few, if any, places that I would rather be than my studio, it's very isolating. The funny thing is my studio is in essentially a co-op of 45 artists. I'm the only one here right now. Where the fuck is everybody else? You call yourselves artists. Am I the only one with this much dedication or am I the only one without any other life?

Fuck! That's a sobering thought.

My studio is in a huge converted industrial building. It was originally a Ford plant (they built model A's here). Usually mine is the last car in the parking lot. I sometimes feel a little proud when that happens, although I'm not exactly sure why. Right about now, and especially on weekends this giant building is nearly empty. There are probably no more than six or seven people in here right now. The silence is deafening. It can get kinda creepy................in a good way.

Don't get me wrong, after I'm done working I'm going out. My inspiration tank is on empty and I'm in deep need of some vitamin-V.

I can't wait for the mural to be finished.