I have nothing on my art agenda for the time being. This period can be described by normal curve extending in either direction of time, past and future, with a standard deviation of a month. Art doesn't go in agendas, though, does it? It doesn't like it, being transfixed or delivered by schedule. Artists on deadline never attribute their inspiration to the joy of turning in projects in a timely manner, do they?
What does art like? Perhaps desperation, adrenaline, uncertainty? A woe-begone life, sure misery, spots of beauty in an endless plain of cynicism. Maybe. Not.
In the passing fancies of luck and life, perhaps that is where one finds a