The Tortured, Impoverised, Starving, Whinging, Self-Pitying Arteeeeest

(aka, Week Four of beard growing attempt)

Oh Porker, there you are, hello Porker.

OMG HI!

Are you okay, Porker, how you doing? Have I told you you're my best friend, Porker? I love you, Porker, no, seriously mate, I love you. You're my best friend. Only you understand me, Porker, only you.

OMG wow really that's so cool thanks so much wow!

I'm having a terrible time, Porker, I really am, just terrible, terrible.

OMG oh noes really that's terrible!

Badly timed bills, Porker. I could have made it through the fortnight on $300, but my health insurance bill turned up. Badly timed bills, Porker. Badly timed.

OMG that totally liek sux!

Truly it does, Porker.

OMG you should totally do something to cheer yourself up!

I am, Porker, I am. I'm going to see School of Seven Bells tonight, they're playing at the Corner.

OMG that's great wow!

...they don't start their set till 11.30.

OMG cool!

They don't finish their set till 12.30.

OMG wow!

Porker, that's after the trains have stopped. I'll have to take a taxi home.

OMG cool!

No that's not cool, Porker!

OMG really wow that sux bad what will you do?

Go anyway. I'll just cut the beans out of my diet and live on rice. It's fine. I'm okay, Porker. That's why we have credit cards, right? In case of emergencies (and vaccinations). But oh, that's not the end of it.

OMG no wai!

Eighty-three thousand, three hundred and seventy-four words into this story, Porker, that's a long way in. That's good, Porker, real good. But it's a real bad place to make a mistake.

OMG really?

I made a terrible mistake, Porker, a terrible mistake. A mistake that renders at least the last five thousand words null and void and not covered by warranty, possibly even more than that, and makes utterly useless all that is to come that I've plotted out, and oh, Porker, what have I done? What have I done? What am I going to do?

OMG really what are you going to do?

The only thing I can do, Porker: keep drinking.

OMG wow yes that makes sense what happened to your face?

What?

OMG your face your face!



Oh, this? Yes. This five o'clock (six fifty-two, to be precise) shadow. Yes. This is what happens to artists who are caught up in the passion of the craft. They get hairy. And drunk.

OMG.

OMG, indeed, OMG.