:: Saturday, March 10, 2001 ::

 

10:46 p.m. I try, but seldom succeed, to do something different on Saturdays, so that the day doesn't look and feel exactly like the rest of the week. I also try to do something different on Sundays, for the exact same reasons. Usually, I don't succeed.

But, there have been no hard and fast rules for behavior, so today just sort of muddled itself into evening, and then eventually I found myself back here, wanting to write a scintillating précis, but.

Made boiled soybeans. They are the best. Igor found this bit of wood perched on a pay phone on the street, and the ultry-cool decoration of our humble abode continues. Why, I ask you, would someone go to all the trouble to cut a figure out of wood and paint it, only to leave it on a piece of public property?

Is it purely and simply to make me happy? I suppose it must be. It certainly made Igor happy when he jogged by and saw it and knew how much I'd love it. It's about a foot tall, by the way, and it will look just so snappy in the right place in the house.

Finally, it makes you happy to see a nice rendition of it here, today or tonight, for your viewing pleasure. Thank you, anonymous artist.

Art, and the creation of it, is its own reward, of course. The very feisty novelist Harlan Ellison is currently waging a David-and-Goliath battle against AOL for lost royalties and various other damages resulting from the indiscriminate dissemination and digitizing of some of his work.

He loves a good fight and he believes he's fighting for the good. It's true that if artists were paid well, or perhaps even subsidized in some way, that maybe we'd have a better world. Maybe. I'd rather see the situation arise that allows everyone a small basic home, utilities, and food for nothing -- and then the rest is up to you.

Some people would fritter their time away and some people would create, but neither act would result in starvation or homelessness. Many people would still seek to have a bigger, better house and more and varied food, and that would be their due.

But wouldn't it be great if there was always a boxy four-walls where you could wash up, grab a bite, snuggle under a space blanket and get some sleep in peace -- no matter what? Just because you're human and because there's enough to go around, no matter how you divide the wealth.

George Carlin once speculated that all the homeless in this country could be housed, easily, on just the spacious golf courses we currently have. Sure, that would wreck a good game of golf, but.

I wonder how much art I would create if I didn't worry about money every day? And what would I write about if I didn't have that particular cornerstone worry, with all its supporting features? And what would I do with all that extra sleep, once the tossing and the turning was eliminated?

Would I give my art away, free and clear, if I never had to worry about food, clothing, and shelter ever again? Yes, actually, I think I would -- if only to avoid the bookkeeping tasks and the filing and the bank reconciliation silliness.

On the other hand, I'd still need money to buy *other* people's books, of course. So, scratch that plan. And it's back to drawing board for this artist.