The artist’s life
April, 14th, 2026 —
(… a long conversation with my diary, Lidy, then:)
Which brings us to the heart of what I wanted to talk to you about. This month, with all the progress I’ve made in therapy, I’ve decided to “stop waiting”, get serious about life and just go for it. So I decided to place that big Vistapr… order (which I’d been putting off since last year) to set up my online shop. And I had spent the month working on my blog, so I was soooo ready. And today, finally, I received the tote bags…
Well, they’re awful. Ugly as hell, and I didn’t go to the Cottolengo: instead, I spent the evening arguing with that moron from customer service just so he’d, at least, give me a credit note, something to sort this all out. But it seems I’m not that brilliant at negotiating either, because he’ll get back to me by email after discussing my case with the management.
The worst part? I think all my orders are going to turn out like this. The mugs probably don’t have the right image format, so they’ll likely be blurry or dull in color, and the postcards… probably faded too (I don’t know how much I have to increase the saturation before printing).
But the thought that I’ve spent my entire April salary on this. Bat-blind, plain stupidity.
Suddenly, I felt really dumb. Because on top of that, I didn’t stop there. I spent the whole evening on it. Printf…, Gelat…, Shopify… I looked for alternatives, for solutions. Anything to make this shop work.
Then I thought of the photographer from The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, whom I admire so (interpreted by Sean Penn). And I said to myself: do you see that dude, out on the plains of Kazakhstan, photographing the Tatars… selling pretty tote bags online?
Or Hemingway, for that matter, out on the front line in the Spanish Civil War, spending an entire evening fiddling about to get the cups just right?
Instead of writing well-structured, well-researched articles, I’m chasing publicity. Instead of heading out onto the streets to observe the world and document it (as I’ve always dreamed of doing!), once again… I’ve lost my way.
It’s not Instagram.
It’s not society. It’s me.
I can’t eat, I’ve got nothing in the fridge, I’ve got a stiff shoulder I can’t treat, no money saved and nothing in my pockets… For some bags? Ugly ones, at that? I’m pinning my last hopes on the order I’ll receive tomorrow… But, God, what have I done?
As God is my witness, I need to write this down:
April, 14th, 2026
€1.47 in my bank account.
€120 in my savings, which I’ll use to pay the water, electricity and Wi-Fi bills.
I had a quarter of a baguette for dinner, with cheap mayonnaise.
The house is a mess
I have ten ugly bags and three paintings for sale (two of which are copies).
But even so? I haven’t said my last word. —
♡
