The Inner Child

William F. Buckley, Jr. once said that owning a sailboat was like standing in a cold shower while tearing up hundred dollar bills.

Taken macrocosmically, one could say that life is an unending series of dumptrucks, each filled with shit, disgorging, one after another, their cargo on one's head. Just when you've dug yourself out of one load of shit, another arrives.

Now this is not to say that life doesn't have its pleasures. Sometimes, while digging skyward, one runs across, say, a cigar still wrapped in cellophane. A Philly Blunt? I think they come in a box. So you think, "Great...a cigar!" but then you realize you have no matches, or if you do, they're wet.

It's a depressing scenario, but you can't let it get you down. Particularly us artistic types. The key is to try to tap into the inner child; the spirit uncorrupted by the pummeling of adult life. And speaking of the inner child, this, of course, would be Exhibit A for the defense:



I've never thought of my ears as particularly big, but looking at this picture, and the previous one of Dad, I wonder if I've been in denial this whole time. I was a good looking boy, though. And that is a pleasant smile.

Picasso once said "I've spent my whole life trying to paint like a child."