I'm reading Bukowski's letters on an inhumanly hot day, and waiting for the sun to go down so I might have a drink and livestream. I've been trying to write June's post here for a while now. I could've banged it out in 20 minutes on the computer, but I've been doing this longhand writing thing and that's taken some getting used to.
We're still some ways off from a definitive post-mortem on this now 96-day-long "project". The last three or four days have been full of self-doubt and second guesses, and then this morning I have a banger of a show and I feel like every thing's worth doing again. If it weren't for this hellish heat and the accursed Ménière's disease... but I suppose there's no art without suffering. And is that what this project is? Something of artistic merit? Well, that ain't for me to decide, never has been. I just do the thing and whatever happens, happens. I think, anyway, that I'll ease off on shooting for twelve-hour days. I did that for almost all of the first 90 days, and broke my old record of 41 consecutive full working days—that was set back in the summer of '01, making gross money for doing almost fuck-all. I made over 7 million yen that year, at the stupidly young age of 26. So far in my 46th year I've made under a hundred dollars, along with a handful of toothless enemies.
And I guess that's all I have to say for now.