It's like walking into a pawn shop to sell a diamond and having the clerk tell you he doesn't need diamonds and him adding, "And what's wrong with you that you gotta be selling something? Are you destitute or what? Why don't you go get a job?"

Some would say that's life. I say it's bullshit, and I intend to learn how to keep the deal straight.

Now Tex arrives back from some 3 a.m. adventure climbing sculptures in the dark and running from the cops because his new-found cohort Tim is holding. It's late. We had margaritas early this afternoon and I was out by 8:30. Slept five hours, all the while Tex partied on. The guy has endurance like no one I know. Endurance for drinking that is. I'm glad to have him along as my driver, but I'm beginning to wonder if his presence is sucking more of my time and energy than its worth. I must fashion a support plate over the gear shift on which to sit the computer. Attached with Velcro, I will be able to move it around yet have it stay put poised for drive-by typing.

I've kicked Tex out of the car. He smokes and that, more than anything, is cause for immediate dismissal. I'm sick to death of smokers. I've been putting up with it for years because it seems such a natural companion to drinking. But two years with Jill quitting and starting back up, quitting and starting, wanting me to make her quit for me because she didn't care enough to do so on her own. Fuck it. Smoking is nasty.

So Tex has gone into Maggie's house, a potentially dangerous move and certainly bad etiquette on my part. I better go get him.

Okay. He's just sitting on the front steps. No harm in that.

I'm a little lost right now. A little pressured. A little disappointed. The latter emotion comes from seeing the latest issue of some mag called Juxtapose. There's a really comprehensive photo story in there about art cars, and do you think Duke's in it? No way. I'm pleased for all my friends who did make the story. But I've been in this game awhile now and though I've gotten a lot of press lately, it's been solo stuff. I long for recognition alongside my art car peers, in and of the family of car artists as it were.

The pressure comes of having very few days left until Portland and wanting more than anything to get this story wrapped. And being lost, well.. any number of things. Detachment from my loved one, fighting a drug addiction, being in a leadership role amongst Tex and Seven and myself, and of course not writing to my satisfaction. And being up at 4 a.m. can't be helping. So enough already. Goodnight.

K-Mart parking lot, Bozeman, MT

Trying to get out of here sometime today. More than one night in a place starts to feel like too long real quick.

Only been here in the parking lot for a few minutes and already the photo junkies are swarming. Aha! But what's that I hear? The soft paper sound of a dollar being stuffed into the money can. Good.

So, Bozeman. There was the arrival, the failed attempt at turning on the Sweet Pea people, the library and an email message for Seven from Chiyedza, his lovely Zimbabwe bride back in St. Paul.

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by Pineapple Publishing and Consulting
Art Cars in Cyberspace ©2004 Pineapple Publishing and Consulting
Contact us at artcars@artcars.com

Last update April 1, 2004