Voluntary Exile

Copywriting is like fucking for money - if you like fucking. I wouldn´t recommend it. Too many rules, too many formats, too much of everything but not enough love nor time. Writing for money. And I know it beats a real job. At least my job doesn¨t bore me to death. Real jobs are truly a pain in the ass. So extremely disrespectful. (If you have half of a brain.)
Some people make me smile, most people bore me to death. It´s a fact. They are worse than boring. Compulsively faking. Real adults.I managed to paint it and called it ´The Real You´. Was fun. For once in 2017 the canvas was working with me. As if my Imaginary Friend held my hand. The Fucker - as we call eachother.
It is nice to be back in exile. Voluntary exile. Living on a island, staring at the Mediterranean Sea.Yes, it¨s good to be back. Checking out these women on the beach who seem to be reading magazines - fashion, lifestyle or gossip. But are they really reading? The pages turn fast as hell.. Maybe they are too smart? Maybe they realize it¨s guys like me who write that shit? Not that I give a fuck. As long as they keep on spending their hard earned cash on keeping me alive. For all I care they stole the cash or did whatever they are good at. Honesty Killed The Cat. That´s gonna be my next painting: Honesty Killed The Cat. I like it. Consider it done.
If anyone is reading this and has a suitable place in Valletta for my next painful exhitbition, let´s say in December, feel free to ignore this. As always, how many would show up? 7 or 11? No offense. I would probably be in some bar myself.Talking to some real piece of art. Life is all about choices. (Which makes it even more unbearable to some.)
Can anybody borrow me a fifty? I need to buy some shit. I mean to paint.Obviously.