I'm nothing of the sort.
Evidently I'm prone to melancholia.
It was a filthy sort of day--the kind that I will tell stories about later. It ended in staph infection vomit all over my van. I promptly drove to the store and bought 'a packet of morphine' (Victorian-speak for gummy bears) and then scrubbed my car out as never before. A blue mist descended on my brow (The gummy bears.) and only the solace of my paints and palate would soothe my troubled spirit. I'm stinking Vincent van Gogh.
|The easy, breezy inspiration|
So, no fat commission checks for me. I probably would have died of consumption in a filthy suburban garret. Which is only romantic until the rats find you.
|I call him "Earnest the Pre-Corpulent Chickadee of Melancholy"|
Anyway, as with the rest...it's lovely but don't remind yourself of what it was supposed to be and everything will be alright. ;0)