Mr. Sandman

I am having a very interesting show up here in Santa Barbara. It was a miserable affair for the first day, then the second day of setup. I did a grand total of seventy five bucks, not a very good sign when you figure that show expenses will tally out around fifteen hundred for this shebang. Just more of the same. People around me seemed to be selling fine. I am on a bad streak and am having serious doubts about my material, my business model, the shifting tides. I am feeling like roadkill, the tibetans are ready to drag me up the mountain and cut me into little pieces for the vultures.

It is a bad time for the negativity and introspection and a bad time to be broke. Significant bills to pay or the whole damn house of cards comes down. Ill mother that I must see on the other side of the country immediately, tax payment due. Having lit the money incense, stuck the tangerine on the case (an antique dealer superstition once championed by Napa wine antique dealer Jim many years ago) prayed to all the suitable deities, I could do nothing but try to put on a happy face and trudge on.

Lo and behold, the wind shifted around noon yesterday. A past client bought a painting, somebody else bought another, then a major dealer bought a few significant works. It was a phenomenal reversal. Things that I thought I might die with and that would have been thrown into my sarcophagus with me in pharaonic times magically dissappeared. One of the greatest runs I can ever remember having. My peers congratulated me on the remarkable streak. I am close to getting religion. Tragedy narrowly averted, Robert still lives! Thank you clients and universe. I am grateful. Thank you Leslie. Thank you friends and loved ones. The bills get paid this month. Happy to be on the other side, despair is so unbecoming.

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Celebrated with the largest bone in ribeye I have ever tackled at the Tee Off. A piece of cow that would tip over Fred Flintstone's wagon. The dark saloon was very crowded and so I sat at the bar. Ordered a greyhound but it was so stiff I mostly left it on the counter. Good meal, I dig the funky place. Bartender had been there 14 years and was still the new guy. Another nice meal at the tee off, just enough light at the bar to read the independent and I got to watch the Pacers polish off the poor Knicks.

For such a big shot town, Santa Barbara has some pretty crummy restaurants. After Superica there is not so much to talk about. I went back to Presto Pasta the first night, a client's joint and had chicken parmigiana. Good but not the Four Seasons. Went to Harry's the next night, hadn't been there in over thirty years and it was pretty disappointing. The famous salsa was good but my corn beef dip was fatty and funky and honestly made me a little ill. Ted and I went to Saigon the third night for thai/vietnamese and it was decent. Spring rolls, duck curry and a mixed vermicelli. Had to beg for proper utensils but I would go back.

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I have a sister named Barbara. I seem to recall my mother, who knew a lot of obscure stuff, tell us that Saint Barbara, who I assume this town was named after, was the patron saint of toilets. I checked Wikipedia this morning and found no such reference. She was apparently the patron saint of artillerymen, military engineers, miners and others who work with explosives because of her old legend's association with lightning, and also of mathematicians. There is a reference to a bath house in the entry so it may require further digging.

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I booked my hotel on Expedia and selected one I had stayed at before, the Sandman, conveniently located close to the show and frankly the only room in town this side of Motel 6 under a c note. I paid 90. Still your basic shithole.

This is a picture of the bathtub in room 151. I can deal with a little chipped paint and a bathtub that leaks onto the floor. Hot water that took approximately four minutes to arrive.

What is more disturbing is the brackish brown water that comes out of the pipe, water that makes you feel like you are soaking in one of the less hygienic sections of the Tigris or Euphrates. Really disgusting.

The free breakfast ain't so bad, started off my day all week with honey nut cheerios and a hard boiled egg. Yesterday I mixed in a cinnamon donut. Sinful but quite good.

Will stay in touch.