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.
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.
The profusion of talent in the proposals we received, comparable to the massive cloud of pollen generated by a field of ragweed, made the task of our selection committee as difficult as actually defecating a gold brick.