The heat index is 108 degrees as I write this. It's around 95 or so in the shade. It's only June. Dear god.

I tweeted last night that I am struggling with the new work and feel like a sham. The only clear choice is keep making it. That's what I do, I just keep going. Long after all the evidence has been presented as to how futile this pursuit truly is, I keep going. I honestly don't even know why anymore.

I can say it's not mere habit or routine. I go to great lengths and overcome much just to keep doing this. On some fundamental level, I really mean to do it, -there's real intent at work. Sometimes the futility gets to me. Everybody has their days I suppose.

Two weeks from today I start a new day job, and I'm incredibly thankful for this. My current situation has been deteriorating for the past year and intensely so for the past 6 months. It's the internet, so I'll leave it at that. The change is a positive one, and I'm excited. It is a modest change but enough to keep the studio should I decide to go that route next year.

More images next week. All these current paintings have so much paint on them now that I can no longer tell which was which, or what pictures I've posted. Of note is that the only vertical one suddenly became very Forest and Sea-like. Just sort of became it, and I still don't know what to make of that. I'm enjoying moving the paint around, piling it up and scraping it off. I wish I made slick, pretty paintings sometimes, but it just won't come. To me, there is always an underlying brutality and barbarism to them...but maybe I'm just seeing myself. I've been parading around as a normal person for so long now I even believe it myself sometimes. To change now just seems vain and hypocritical. Funny how we attach ourselves to our sense of self and to that facade of personality that it has taken us a lifetime to erect.