Wednesday is the day I open the gallery by myself. I unlock the doors at a quarter till ten with a large coffee cup in hand and a huge, leather briefcase that belonged to my grandfather hanging from my elbow. I sit here until 5. Then I lock the doors. While I’m here I sweep and dust and take out the trash and smile at tourists who come in to peruse the paintings. The gallery has a “home style” collection where the artist has slapped prints on affordable pottery, pillows, phone cases, and flasks.
Really, I just get to sit here by myself. I get commission but I never sell the paintings. I can feel my head floating to the ceiling to bobble there like a balloon, and we’ll never get it back. Four days out of the week I’m dressed in all black and an apron, waiting to wait on tables. Busy season is supposed to be coming soon. Until then I’m slouched on chairs staring at the door like a starved dog waiting for some scraps. The other two days off I fuck off.
But today I have a big girl job in a gallery. I remember working across the street at this vietnamese restaurant gazing at the window at this place. And now, a few months later, here I am, in the place that I had imagined I would be.
Maybe it’ll happen again.
Next week I’m visiting New York for the first time. Not like I can afford it. But I’m going, because fuck it, I’ve always wanted to see the city.
Yesterday I listened to this author talk about writing stories. Have you ever heard something and you think to yourself, “Fuck, I’ve been doing it all wrong this whole time”?
The guy was like, “Writing is not thinking. Writing is writing. So sit your ass down at the desk and do it.”
Okay, okaaaay, ok. I’ve been medicating myself with the idea that I’m a writer although I haven’t produced shit. It’s all in my head, I keep telling myself. Now get it all on the page, or your head is going to explode. Anyways, watch this video, because if you’re like me, you have nothing better to do sitting at a desk. He really got my head going on some ideas. I think my writing has been a struggle because I’m making it all too personal. This guy skeletons out the plot, and then the story and themes are discovered and built.
Stories are rewritten.