I just couldn't stand the painting I did on the smooth paper, so am replacing it with this one. I'll do the other image, because I like it, on some rough paper. There is too much difference, and the lack of the same quality is too obvious.
Will and Lisa came over to do the work on the house that section 8 required in order to renew my eligibility, and now my discomfort at not having it done has been replaced by my discomfort at having had it done. My anxiety about it had built to such a level that I decided to hire Tony to do the work instead of agonizing over pressuring Will any more. This idea angered Will and, as with all such things, we both felt injured, misunderstood, and abused. The upshot is that I feel as bad now as I did before, but for different reasons. I suppose this is why it is considered a bad idea to do business with friends.
It is very difficult to feel so beholden to a person as I feel to Phyllis, and therefore to Will, as her son. I feel that she has done so much for me already that I have no right to expect the least crumb from her, and yet my dependence on government agencies and their money necessitates that I follow certain rules. The rules involve Phyllis, as my landlady. It makes me feel like the worst kind of beggar to ask her for anything when she has already given so much more than I could ever deserve. It is certainly no mystery to me why welfare recipients have no self-respect. Or else some of them cover their shame with defensive bravado, trying to feel that they are as good as anyone else in a world where they are shown no evidence that they are. Of course Phyllis has never been anything but unwaveringly kind to me, but the facts stand for themselves, and I am often humiliated.