Wind Song, here I come...

So this is the deal: It's official, I'm moving onto Wind Song in June. It's in Apollo Beach, on Tampa Bay, if you don't remember. Of course, this has been the plan all along, but I'd thought I'd remind everyone. My apartment lease is up at the end of June, and I just now emailed Barbie and "reminded" her of my plans: when my lease is up, I'll be moving onto the sailboat. And that's the plan, and it's only 8 weeks away! Man, this is SOON, I just realized. Whew! I need to get busy. I mean, if it weren't for my bum shoulder, I'd be working EVERY DAY. But that ain't gonna happen. I'll do what I can for now, and when it's time to go, I'll go.
To be honest, I don't have any real work lined-up in Tampa. Hmm, maybe murals, but, oddly, I've felt terribly non-committal to murals. In fact, I've been doing NOTHING toward 'em, of late. Maybe I can draw caricatures at Busch Gardens, but I haven't talked to those guys, and I don't think Dion even knows who I am. And, heck, maybe they wouldn't even WANT me. Or I can draw caricatures at the beach or something. Or, if things get REALLY bad, financially, or whatever, I can always throw-off the dock lines and sail away, and fish, and beg, and/or whatever. I figure I can always walk door-to-door and paint pretty pictures on mailboxes. ...lol...But, no, REALLY, I would do that.
And, yes, WIND SONG, the smallish 24-foot sailboat is gonna be my new home, NOT the bigger boat. That deal didn't work-out. But that's fine. I don't need another bill. Part of the POINT is to get away from bills. I owe the IRS about $10,000, mainly because I refuse to deduct ANYTHING. I say, "Fuck you, HERE YA GO, take this, this is WAY too much, but you CANNOT audit me, because there is NOTHING to audit!" I'll pay the full amount and be happy, just so they can't mess with me. It's rather satisfying. I give 'em $150 a month, and they don't bother me. ... And one day, in 4 or 5 years, I'll have it paid-off. (My four years of caricaturing in Orlando has been both a gigantic blessing and a gigantic curse.)
Beyond that, there's much to say, and there's nothing to say. I'm sitting alone in my apartment. I think I must want it that way. All else is a kind of messiness of the soul, you know: friendship and love. ...I guess that's the best way to put it. ...Damn, I'm an idiot.