Keeping It Real

I interviewed a graffiti artist for work a while back.

He draws pictures of robots obsessively.  I asked him why and he said, “That’s a dumb question.”

He was rough around the edges with a scruffy beard and wearing cut-off jean shorts.  His teeth were brown.  He didn’t want his picture taken.  But I admired the hell out of him.

Because he said he didn’t need money.

“You don’t need money,” he said.

He didn’t have a day job, didn’t need one.  He said he was living cheap, sleeping on people’s couches.  It wasn’t hard, he said.

This isn’t news.  I know this.  If you want to be a writer, you need to know this too.  It should be your mantra:

Live cheap.

Live cheap.

Live cheap.

I really should purchase a new computer, but I keep putting it off because buying anything over $100 makes me break out into hives.

And I wonder, how does the graffiti artist get a computer?  How does he pay for his art supplies?  Thank God I’m a writer and all I need is a pen and paper.   And a computer, really, if I want to be honest.

But then I know another story about a fellow artist who called up all his friends when he needed money and asked them to give it to him.   As a fellowship, a gift, a non-repayable loan.

It even worked, once or twice, I think.

But I could never go there.  I do believe, at the end of the day, it’s no one’s responsibility to provide for me but my own.  I chose this dream, no one else did.

But that still means I don’t have a computer.

I think I can fix that this weekend, without paying out huge cash money.  I just have to get tricky.  More later.

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