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Almost Dead and Crime-ing

So I’ve been doing some thinking.

 

Lots.

 

Mainly because my doctor almost killed me.

 

If you knew anything about the ridiculousness of my medical pursuits and my doctor, you’d probably assume that this whole mess all came to a head when the knife fight in the parking lot got a little too stabby… I mean after all I’ve been through with this guy and his staff, I’d just assume that’s how it would all come to an end. I don’t know… maybe I’m daydreaming here but the point is, although that would have been a way cooler story, that’s not exactly how it went down.


What did go down is that after changing my meds drastically and repeatedly for more than a three month span without ANY lab (bloodwork) to see where my hormone levels were at, I unnecessarily and very traumatically (although I am laughing now) found myself mere steps from ‘coma-ville… population: me.’


Those were my doctor’s words. Not the one that almost killed me. No… one of the good doctors from the hospital I stayed in for two nights. And he didn’t exactly say, “coma-ville… population: me…” although he would have said, “coma-ville… population: you…” You know what… that doesn’t matter…


What he said was that all of my internal organs, brain, heart, digestive system (hence the violent projectile vomiting), etc were slowing dramatically and beginning the shut down phase and that I was dangerously close to going into a coma.


Cool, cool.


So I took some time off… after getting out of the hospital… that I found out is out of network btw… (lol how fun is this hospital bill going to be LMAO… so put a pin in that because we’re coming back to that whole out of network thing because… it’s relevant) and I watched some Netflix.


And by some… I mean a lot of fucking Netflix.


Now I’m not a big movie person… mainly I find it incredibly difficult to stay focused and entertained longer than an hour in front of the tv… but I did watch Queenpins and if you haven’t seen it: I highly recommend it.


The movie is based on the true story of a former US Olympic team speed walking champion who teams up with her best friend to sell stolen “FREE” coupons from various major retailers and manages to make over $40 million dollars in a very short amount of time and because it’s white collar and a victimless crime (ok fine, the companies lost money… blah… blah… blah… victimless enough for me though), she did just 11 months in jail and walked away with a lot of fucking dough… and I’m not talking dough from Pillsbury… actually I am… I think she stole dough… money… from them… but I digress…


So now I’m thinking… maybe this is my Walter White moment? No not the fucking meth. That’s not victimless… but this hospital bill is going to be a biggie IOU and a little bit of crime-ing, a quick stint in the slammer (I’d keep my unfiltered opinions to myself and do prison tattoos or something… I don’t think prisoners shank the shit out of artists… I don’t know) but anyway… $40 million dollars later and tada… no more hospital bill AND guess who’d possibly have some money left over?


ME!


Now I haven’t gotten far. BUT and I did get really excited about this part… do you have any idea how easy it would be to launder money as a fucking artist? Like my friends…. I have got this part figured the fuck out. Well mostly. I wouldn’t know the first thing about building the online infrastructure to do said laundering… so then I was thinking how would I do that?


I realized I couldn’t, I’d have to outsource. Then I was trying to figure out how to outsource that. Like I’d need to find a criminal mastermind and well I don’t know any so then I thought that maybe I could look into teaching art therapy classes at a prison and doing some recruiting. BUT THEN I realized that why would I want to look for someone in prison because obviously they got caught…so I’m kind of back to square one.


And I still haven’t figured out a victimless white collar crime… which is unfortunate. BUT I do know that as an artist I could really easily launder this future crime money. So I thought a lot about how to do that (because even though I watched a shit ton of Netflix I could only watch so much Netflix) and I realized that the best way to do that is to start painting a lot. Because I’m going to need a lot of paintings to launder $40 million…


Anyhow I guess what I’m saying is that I’ll be doing a lot of painting moving forward… now that I’m not dead or in coma-ville or what have you… and now that I know how to launder crime money and pay off this little hospital bill…


Which is fun because whether I ultimately decide to stay on the straight and narrow (of course I will), head down and nose to the grind stone, or start white collar crime-ing $40 million dollars and wind up doing a brief stint in a low security prison either way: it will all be revolving around me creating more art.


And making more art? Well that’s a great fucking story either way… not knife fighting your former shitty endocrinologist that almost killed you in a parking lot and winding up in a hospital fucking story… but a fun fucking story nonetheless.


“I’m Not Everyone’s Cup of Pee” - spray paint, handpainted acrylic imagery, vinyl lettering, glitter and resin on wood panel. 12 x 12” - private collection



*no I am not going to harm anyone and no I am not going to crime (unless you have a really good idea in which case let’s meet to discuss details).

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