“You have to paint more positive” “Draw happy things, you know, like
Oh my God, and should I sign my scribblings Hallmark?
“Well, you could just try. Try to not be so dark, so gloom and doom. So damned”
I like being damned. It gives me something to talk about.
“I don’t like that they all have nipples.”
Is it okay that they have noses?
“I know you’re writing about me. I know what you’re doing. Drawing those pictures and all”
It’s not all about you.
“Then what’s this one all about?”
“It’s kind of like airing your dirty laundrey, isn’t it?”
“They’re really pretty, but why are they all different colors?”
Aren’t we all?
“This house, all this, it’s nonsensical, really. Kind of like your brain on acid”
“There’s no place to sit. You don’t have a couch. You don’t even have chairs at the kitchen table. You have these step stool things. And cats everywhere”
“Everything is painted a different color. There’s no theme. It’s not smooth.”
“Kind of like how you think. All zipping back and forth like a pendulum”
“I’m not comfortable here”
“I kind of think they all look like me”
“I would have been surprised if it hadn’t looked just like this. Your house”
You would have?
“Yeah, I always knew it would look just like this”