Supposed to hit 111 today. Got the misters on in the chicken house which creates a funny scene. As you may know chickens aren't real fond of water (madder than a wet hen), and it's hilarious to see them avoid the misters (some drip a little bit too much), then run back, freak out, leave, come back, get cool, get hot, never satisfied to stay in one place. Kind of like stock traders on Wall Street, no?
Had some mule thoughts this morning and how it applies to Mickey Free. Found this page of sketches from last year:
Struggling With The Struggle
Some days I wake up and wonder what the hell I am doing. As I drink my coffee I think about how publishing a magazine is kind of like running in front of a train. Then I go for a walk with Peaches, hear the birds, look at the saguaros and feel a bit better. Then, I come back and read the obits, stunned every single day by how damn young so many dead people are. Then I go out to the studio to sit and ponder my future. I draw a page of sketches, then go into work where the fan sometimes is really blowing real hard, if you know what I mean and I think you do. So, it's a struggle and sometimes I wish it would end, or come to a happy resolution so I could relax a bit.
Gee, I wonder what ol' Sigmund has to say about this?
"One day, in retrospect, the years of struggle will strike you as the most beautiful."
—Sigmund Freud
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