"I use to paint to stay sane but now I have a therapist."

Stepping out into the nite was difficult. After we had all been on lockdown. Never sure how to say that in lockdown or on lockdown. Granted it was October 2021, so we were now able to do stuff. Indoor dining was prohibited to me with no vaccine passport. I didn't mind, although I missed the heaters they provided during the post lockdown pre-vaccine passport days. I love dining outside with heaters.

Listening to fiction, poetry and the rain in the covered patio area was magical. Probably the best fiction writer was the pregnant woman, reading about women boxers interwoven with girl hand clapping games. It was a great contrast for the mind, made more pungent with the sound of drops of rain. The pregnant woman at the mic, flames from a gas heater dancing on the left behind her. A puddle dancing with raindrops on the right, with people passing by. Some on bikes, some mildly interested and some pushing their worldly possessions in a cart.

After the reading our other friends invited us to their covered outdoor table with a gas heater. It was like we were in a fishbowl. The rain was pouring down, the dancing flames from the gas heater, creating smoking from the rain. The wet waiter was running to and fro with this and that. The sounds of rain on the fragile roof over us was exhilarating. While I am not downplaying the tragedy of the virus, the adjustments for outdoor dining was a no brainer. It was great, although I dont think the drenched waiter would agree.

The nite was a woven tapestry, food, walking, poetry, drinking, some friends leaving new ones coming. Raining, dripping with gas flames. The last guy to join was a kind walking train wreck. He had underlaying aggressive need to keep the party hopping and alive.

The smoke like his agitation was something to weigh.

The rain hit the tops of the gas heaters creating steamy smoke. We talked. It rained. We talked. It smoked. He would run off to get more food and drinks. I told them how I was an accidental polygamist, married to two men for ten years. On top of that I was a cheap bride, I only received $1,000.00 for each marriage.

My first husband was a Japanese customer at my coffee shop. For some reason me and my coworker friend both married two foreign friends. We thought we were cool and it was a way to give the finger to the establishment. We were punk feminists and plus it was 1k. At about the same time I had a one nite stand with my second husband. A one nite stand that turned into a relationship.

After my first husband was citasized ( sorta like circumcisied but with a passport). I signed all the divorce papers he brought. All this while pregnant with my second husband to be. When my baby was one year old my parents told me they would pay me 1k if I got married. I said cool. Las Vegas wedding here we come. Thinking back on it I should have asked for more.

Fast forward about ten years during the long drawn out process of divorcing my second husband, I got a message from a Private Eye. At first I was like "fuck!, I bet it is a bill collector. " Then I watched this movie where Gwenith Paltrow gets a bunch a money from a Private Eye, so I call him back.

Do you think I got a wad of cash? Well you would be wrong. I found out, I was not legally divorced from my first husband. We had done most of the paperwork but forgot to sign the final divorce papers. Once we signed them, we would be retroactively divorced with this date as the reference date. So my friends I was legally married to two men for the whole time I was married. I was a polygamist for 10 years!

The cheap bride reveals her punk polygamist past while she dances around in her underwear.

After the story, the agitated guy says "You have to be a writer. That was a fucking awesome tale." While I love being a painter, writing appeals to the nomad in me. At some point I hope to find inspiration to paint again, like I told my friend.

"I use to paint to stay sane, and now I have a therapist."

Stop here or go forward. Underwear? Yeah the agitated guy tried in an agro way to get me home but there aint no way. Even in my sluttiest daze I would not have liked the undertone of aggression coming outta this guys pores. I like dorky guys, who are sweet and yet can bring the goods when I want it.

I have an art show now, the second opening is next Wednesday. [https://www.academy-sf.com/event-details/artist-reception-isa-amalee] Second opening? It is in a private club so every month or so we have an opening to the public. For me to sell paintings. If a painting sells. I mean no payment plans no jumping up their butts, sells boom bada bang, I probably will find inspiration. Or maybe not.

What do you think? Do you like my writing or my paintings? Or both? Are you interested in purchasing a painting as an NFT or the real painting with bitcoin. I am in process of setting that up but if you want a specific painting let me know and I will work on it first. Check out my website [https://amaleeart.com].