I guess it doesn�t matter what you fill your time with as long as you enjoy yourself. There is a lot of time to fill it often seems. So much so that about a year ago I started walking slower. Consciously at first, now more thoughtlessly. Does it really matter what you do? No, for me it matters how I do what I do. Who cares? Anyway, I�ve been playing with my living space to pass the time lately. It�s a mess, but it gives me a little something to focus on besides how sad or lonely I am. I�m trying to give it the feel of an actual feathered nest. I want it to be comfortable and comforting if not beautiful. It will be ugly-beautiful and charming; a poor artist�s little rat�s nest. Disparate objects unite! I passed a Mexican restaurant a few days ago on the way to the pot store. The interior view was awash in saffron yellow and orange with paper doilies suspended across the entire ceiling in every bright color. There was an altar I think or something like one near the entrance. All very tacky, but so exquisite in it�s ugliness. Anyway, much more charming than minimalism. Can minimalism be charming? Who Cares? I�ve been hanging artwork that I put together at the studio. My big desire is for a bed. Originally my idea for a luxe pallet of silk quilts framed by sheer, beaded draperies suspended from a teakwood canopy. Had I all the materials to do it, I could just build one of my own. It would be very cozy to be surrounded by all that dark, heavy wood and airy, gorgeous textiles�a pseudo-womb. I am SO exhausted with psychology. It�s all I think about. Really, I have been trying diligently to be the best person possible. I believe in that: keeping myself in constant check, always working to improve how I do things, primarily how I interact with myself and others. Friday night I ended up in jail and I stayed there until Monday evening. I thought I handled it well; I think now it was more traumatic for me than I first felt. I have a court date pending and a misdemeanor charge against me with a maximum sentence if found guilty of one year in County. The last few nights I�ve had dreams that I was incarcerated and painfully awaiting my release; when that would be I had no knowledge of, just as it had been for me those three days: horrible, nightmarish it is for one who has had their freedom taken away. I want never to be in that situation again. So, maybe I�m �recovering�; I don�t know. I just don�t feel good right now and I�m ready to feel good.