The height of my frikkin romanticism is this: I want to close shop and go back to sailing only because in four years when I’ll be 42, I want to do the 3-year classical art course in fucking Florence. The fees per semester is $17,500 and it doesn’t include the art supplies or lodging. At the end of the course there is only a 50% probability of my being able to sell a single painting. But still I want to put that much of money into it.
The problem is that I don’t have that kind of spare cash right now. And i don’t see me getting it if things continue like right now. So I gotta go back to the sea. I’m of course freaking out at the prospect cause I am out of touch. I think I’ll ask them to give me one of those rust buckets that ply in the Amazon. At least I’ll not bang her.
(I think I so earnestly want to do this because at least that will be my one thing that no one can take away from me … clutching at straws and all that …)