Sometimes that’s onlyba matter of a few hours. Today I think I got about five hours in then went to the mercado in the rain looking to fill that hate hole with sugary food. Didn’t work though I’m really looking forward to a box of milk I have in the fridge. I’m gonna drink it while listening to old radio shows. It happens when I paint too this self-hatred. I can’t paint worth a shit but I’d try and I’d think I had something and on some level something substantial was worked out and let go but then something new seemed to take over and there was nothing I could do. I angrily ripped up or tossed my painting into the trash so i didn’t have to face it any longer (painting is always about self portraits to me no matter the intended subject) so it was like looking in a mirror at reality which was my inability to be and do and create at a higher level than someone so average could be expected to. Always hated my desire to be better than I am. It has never been a driving force but nearly always reactive. My lack of great talent was obvious. Perhaps my greatest talent of all is being hyperaware at how not great or special I am. I peaked at about age ten. I was smartest kid back then. The girls liked me a lot. I was a good athlete. My future was an exciting prospect for those who knew me. Who knew I’d just stay the same and the world would catch up and even begin to pass me. I think it began with math. I was always so far ahead of the class and everyone I stopped even trying. Even thinking about it now 30 years on, I’m super depressed. There’s probably time to do something with my life but this self-hatred has become my mask. And underneath I’m naked.