I tried getting money from the Non-creative Arts Council of Houston. The NACHO people think their job is to turn artists into submissive, fear-based art-bureaucrats like them. Ugh. I'd rather hustle. At least I'd get to keep some self respect.
Last Thursday, three hundred people, Santa, and I gathered in the shadow of the Sabine St. Lofts in Houston, absorbing free beer, many smores, and a little hot chocolate as we waited to begin the Unsilent Night. Tonight, it's Austin's turn.
I'm so mega-successful I don't even blow the foam off my own beer. Nowadays, between late-night massages, morning tennis lessons and afternoons at the yacht club, I barely have timeto be a creative genius. But it wasn't always this way.