So luxurious I have the time to meditate on evil plans, be depressed, glad, and be lazy.

Is this what rich people do all day?

Not working wastes my soul on the insipid. Perfect happiness is saved for my painting--which I'm kept from.

Because I'm so luxurious.

Well, I hate it. I just want to paint and be left alone. But it's something I must fight for.

And fighting is not something I do well. So I've given up. Painting-time should happen naturally. I just wish it was a "real" job--a job in which I have a boss, deadlines, a demanding market, and shows to prepare for.

I wish I had more time to paint.