We Will Never Be Rich or Famous...Never Produced, Published, or Hung

And yet, to worry about that is so Twentieth Century. It’s frustrating reaching my great old age to admit that the BIG REINHARD RAPTURE will never happen, but then, female artists don’t get fashion models in their beds, do they? We’re lucky to achieve the Jackie Collins accomplishment of purchasing serial young men...if we don’t think about it. I am hoping just to get a damned reading of a script. I’ll forgo the mansion and the Jaguar, although I wonder if I will indeed die without owning a wine bottle-green J-12.

The Twenty-First Century is just not proving to be a lighthearted. The economy is in free fall, the Mideast is exploding. The Teabaggers will guarantee that we’ll have more pollution, no broadband and starvation in the streets. You can tell the people who are joking about all this...they have salaries and health care. As a Disabled person over sixty, I am awaiting for the moment I will be asked politely to die. Scrooge is winning, but there won’t even be poorhouses.

And yet, one thing I’ve learned lately is that I don’t deserve artistic success because I need it and want it. You don’t get artistic success because you are a genius. Like it or not, you have to earn the sales and accolades. And yes, so many of the producers are the kind of idiots who actually thought “Spiderman” would earn back the $65,000,000 easily. Nonetheless, these are the people you have to deal with or you figure out how to produce it yourself. One dollar...one dime at a time.

Or you die without it and History rolls on without your name written on it. Shakespeare never knew he was Shakespeare. All you can do is pass it on. Paint it. Store it in Google. Film it. Did Orson Welles know he was going to be called the greatest American Director? Or do we all have to be Picasso, with a tall woman on each arm...paying for drinks with a sketch on a napkin? What if your only choice is to be Van Gogh? Would you pass it up to drive a bus and have a pension? I have a pension...and the time and a computer. Yeah, I may be too old, but what the fuck? Maybe someday Willie and I will be up in Heaven and counting the gate. You never know.