guilt

I get confused on this guilt thing.

Should I feel guilty when I don’t do much that dad would call “productive?”

I am an artist (two decent universities say I am) who does little art. The fire that should be in my belly is at best a flicker.

Almost any art has limited appeal. In theory I could make a bucket of new pieces and give them to my kids who have no space and no place to put more and more stuff they do not really need.

It might be better to write a book, it would take less space. Shucks a book of poetry could be even smaller, maybe a quarter of an inch thick, but I am a really lousy poet, and that fire never got lit.

While I am dealing with this guilt thing, I am going to get another cup of chocolate, maybe a cookie and like the gal in South Pacific, but paraphrased, I’m going to wash that guilt right out of my mind.

Maybe.