Girding my Loins, Entering the Fray

I now bait my hook for Leviathan.

All by way of saying, I leave now leafy Brooklyn for the meanstreets of 53rd and 6th, armed with a water bottle, some Sharpies, and my portrait of Steven H. Davis.  Because my work is likely new to the legal community, I'm pricing The Former Chairman at $45,000.  The typing of which makes me physically nauseous. 

Prints will, of course, be available.

This whole Rockefeller Plaza is a wasteland of a sort.  Objectively I know everything will be fine--I mean, I'm not going to get arrested; nobody's gonna beat me up; etc.  But subjectively I fret, because I know that, by dint of the law (ironic, no?), I won't be able to get my painting right up near the front door.  I'll have to content myself with a more distant location, on the public portion of the sidewalk.  Perhaps near a hot dog vendor would be a good idea.  On several levels.

But the point of the exercise is not the convenient eating of hot dogs.  Rather, it's the gathering of insight, via Sharpies.  And it is the success or failure of that endeavor that makes me fret.

At least the Knicks won.