Things are getting better each day. My life escalates in goodness.

I can't wait for New York and San Fran, airplanes, shows, paintings, covers, money, beauty, wit, art, culture, pools, cock.

I foresee white-gloved men opening doors for my ass. I foresee artistic brilliance in a trembling, goose-pimpled throe that occupies every bit of god-like, fearless expression I weild.

I forever want to be handsome and thin, stylish and cute, stunning and rich. I want paintings of mine everywhere in New York, San Francisco, Los Angeles, Paris and London.

I want to write books.

I want colossal success. I want to shake up the art world. I want to make paintings that are shockingly gorgeous. I want to make people happy.

I want to be consistent, creative, colossal. I want to be focused. I want to be rock hard. I want to be beauty epitomized.

That's my life.