Leave to me to actually get into an almost serious fight with the first good looking dude that I meant downtown. He just… I dunno, there were something that triggered me to chew him off. But he was not late to talk back to me and letting me have it. I guess he was not Mr Right for me after all. *shrug*
Not that I would have any time for serious romance these days. They say you can live on love alone if heart is willing. But I seriously doubt it. And I was stranded in San Myshuno with $0 in my pocket and all my bridges burned after all. So desperate times leads to desperate measures. I had this idea that I started promoting to all people I met.
-The idea is simple I explained to Redbeard as I named him in my mind. I start a blog, or preferably an Instagram-account and then post updates about my fabulous life here in San Mushyno. People will be committing murder to get the chanse to read my updates and I will rake in the coins. How hard can it be?
Several days later I still did not have any likes or referals on my Twitter-account and the only visitors I have had on my blog was my own feeble attempts to make it look like someone actually gave a damn. A total bust.
But life was not all bad, mind you. Although the food was not free there were plenty of karaoke-bars around. At one of those infamous bars I met Mimsy. She had the same view of life as I did it seemed and she convinced me (To this day I still don’t know how) to partake in a local competition. And you know what? The judges (half-drunk audience that is) seemed to enjoy my stumbling tries to invent notes that did not exist yet. Anyway – the reward for $500 was a very welcomed price.
At the bar I met some more distractions: The bartender Tim was a very easy target and a entertaining toy to play with for a while.
We exchanged numbers ofc, but honestly I do not know if will live up to my standards at the moment.
The first few days I was living on pure adrenaline and did not feel any hunger at all. But I started to realize that I either had to give up my internet-diva dreams and get *shudder* a normal job. OR I have to do something drastic. And when I passed the girl on the colourful bench Mistress Fortuna decided to work in my favour as I decided to sit down and rest my feet.
The insane thing is that I actually never got her name, but for some reason I felt like I trusted her with the story of my life.
-Paint it instead! she said suddenly after I had told her how hard it was to actually post something with substance with just a cellphone.
-You can paint your story instead of writing it.
The first time I heard about it I so totally dissed her comments, silently calling her a crazy woman in my mind. Painting?! What did I know about painting? About as much as I knew the ingredients of this hideous green drink in front of me.
But then again, it tasted sweet and it totally juiced me up and the aftertaste was not all bad. What could it hurt to try after all? I was so deep in the mud anyways so failing right now would not be any more humiliating, right?
I found the random easel the benched girl had talked about at the Arts Quarter, just as she had promised. I stared at the blank canvas. The question now was what on earth I should paint?
Paint your life she had said. I looked around me. At the streetlights that was fading as morning grew into day. At the pruple flowers that struggled on growing up through the asfalt. At the empty windows in the apartments in front of me. One of them was the apartment I lived in. But I could not really tell which one just yet. They looked equally boring and depressing.
I got to work letting my mind clear and the paintbrush lead the way. The end result was not to shabby if I may say so myself. I would never be a Picasso. I knew that. But at least it would keep me from edge of ruin and starvation.
When the first week had past I was tired, really tired into the bare bone. What did I care if someone saw me walking around naked any more? As long as I got to sleep! And why would they by the way? After all – I was living the full life on the 5th floor…