One man, not quite an agoraphobe, who nearly doesn’t leave his house, only to walk his dog. One dog. The dog’s name is Murphy. The man’s name is Silas. It turns out that it has happened again. Only this one I couldn’t have really done anything about. I have just heard about this company that produces books and art and toys and their entire marketing scheme, as near as I can deduce, is looking for a man named Silas. I don’t think I’m that Silas. I don’t see how they could have heard of me. However, their Silas sounds a lot like me. They even have desktop wallpaper (in the ‘Silas’ section) which is only the name Silas and doggy paws. I had to stop looking at their website. It was freaking me out on an existential level. It was as if I had discovered, while I had thought I was a real-life person, I was actually a marketing character, born not of a mother, but from an ad exec meeting. Or as if you were in a bar in a retirement community in Miami and met this odd looking albino pensioner with messy hair who introduced himself as Fido Dido.

Still, since they can’t find Silas, I suppose — since I know exactly where I am — that I am not that Silas. You can learn about this company, which has some really cool stuff at www.silasandmaria.com.

One man. One dog. One mission. As I said, I am not quite agoraphobic. Yes, I prefer my home to almost anywhere, but I won’t resort to adopting genuine neurotic conditions, at least not yet. My mission is this: To become famous, to become rich, to get a gallery exhibition, to get a book contract, to get corporate sponsorship, to get on the Ellen show. So I’m not leaving my house, except for the Murphy walks, until one of those things happens. Yes, I know that’s extreme. I was tired of seeing people around me succeed. And, I’m doing something I love. And if I’ve learned anything from celebrity TV if you do what you love and you keep doing what you love even if it makes you a crazy person, you will succeed. And I’m saying this now: I’m doing what I love and I’m going to continue to do what I love and if I don’t, after all, succeed, I will never listen to advice from people on celebrity TV and I will either become an accountant or find new and creative ways to sue corporations.

And this is where we stand. It’s been not quite 6 months. 163 days to be exact. I’m not much more famous and barely richer. I have sold exactly one print. If you want one, check out my Order page. I haven’t had a gallery show yet. I haven’t got sponsorship from Fuji or Kodak or Canon but I still try. I haven’t been on daytime TV yet. But I’ve got 163 journal entries. I’ve got 163 images. And, three days ago, I doubled my gear. I’m not just using my Fuji FinePix 40i anymore. With a serious and most humble nod of indebtedness and gratitude to Bob, I now have a Rollei 35 and it has a lot of buttons and controls and it’s one of those old cameras that take, yes, film, and I can’t wait to start playing.

It’s been a lot of work taking images of only stuff in my apartment – with a few exceptions on my Murphy walks. It’s becoming quite challenging. But nothing inspires creativity like a challenge.

Perhaps, yes, I’ve been slumping a little recently. But I’m taking this occasion to redouble my commitment to this project. It’s nearly all I have. And, as I’ve said before, it seems to me – and just ask Cal Ripken – that nothing in life is rewarded so much as perseverance. Yes, there may be a handful of geniuses and prodigies – there was that elephant a few years ago that painted and now there’s a three year old girl who sells paintings for hundreds of thousands of dollars – and there may be some lackluster people with great smiles, great asses, and great marketing, but if you’ve got little else, all you have to hold onto is perseverance. And typically, I give up everything too soon.

Meanwhile, I drink too much coffee, smoke too many cigarettes, take too many baths, clean my house too compulsively, and, yes, still miss my sweetest jellybean.

SS