Working Artist. Working, Artist. Working. Artist… Working.

I am working my ass off right now. Between wrapping up Comedy Festival, writing submissions for various things, and working the job that pays all my bills so I can beg others for money to fund the fun stuff, I’m pooped. And it feels great.

Seriously. Things are great. This is great. I think our choices in life are largely a question of what problems we’d like to have, and I love my problems. I adore my problems. I fall asleep in the arms of my problems, and I purr – the purr part might be sleep apnea.


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