I made a bunch of paperweights. They came out cute. I decided to sell them, so I ventured to a community yard sale and set a folded sleeping bag on the ground with my wares, timely stars and stripe painted smooth lake rocks from Lake Eerie. They make perfect skipping stones. I sprayed three coats of acrylic sealant on them to gloss and protect them. These are $3 apiece.
I lay on the ground next to my paperweights. The clouds passed by and I gots money’s. I sold three to kids, and one to a woman just returned from a 5-year trip in Alaska. Wow!
I need to sell 240 more paperweights, of course, to buy things to build my drone.
The weather was nice. Poverty is so fey.
I am making more, a Mingo Creek series of 80 stones. And from those, alas, come some rather curiously shaped ones.
And I made bacon out of this one. $20.
I can sell all this through my Falcon Photo and Oils biz. All transactions secured, encrypted.
People have no idea how hard it is to survive in rural PA. I throw out the bar. I lie on the ground and sell rocks like a gypsy. I take my food in my hand while I work. I am an American wage slave. My family is ashamed of my poverty. I am being encouraged to give up, but I won’t.
I’m at wits’ end. I have to try what is possible. I heard about a flea market, so I went because there was no fee.
I figure there are some nice slate pools towards Cheat Lake where I can find some nice skippers, I reckon, out yonder, over th’ar next to Giggity Mountain.
I should be able to get a hundred more there. Working with odd shapes is not unappealing.
Nobody bought my painting, but a few bought rocks I found on the ground.
Art is mysterious.