marlene mountain
letter essay
may 1990


ain't easy tho

dear jan 5/6/90

Troubling news about your health, but I hope you can keep a good spirit. Ain't easy tho, is it?

I borrowed money and got a Sharp copier (zoom, 11x17) a few weeks ago--something I've wanted for a zillion years. My plan is to make posters of some of my art, including the mad mother earths. So far it's been lots of hard work and experiments. Also trying to make up some flyers with things reduced. The copier is 'off' so everything is crooked. The tech man has spent 2 mornings here and it's still off. Hoping it can be corrected--and soon. Delaying everything and frustrating me a lot. Don't have that much energy to keep getting crooked things.

Now I'm wishing for a better computer. I was told that I'm wanting to do things on my Apple IIc that just can't be done. Wanted to plan out the 20 year book with a desktop publishing program that I can't get to work. I don't like machines, but I thought I could get away from printers who mess up everything. But one machine calls for another and more gizmos and it all makes for more anguish. I get so frustrated not having the money and energy to do what I wanna do.

The weather has gotten a little cooler again--for a while. Glad, because I don't look forward to having to spend most of the day trapped in one air conditioned room. Which is what I gotta do each summer. The heat does funny things to my legs. My recent yearly check up was good (still just a 'suspect'), but there's nothing but Advil for the pain--which doesn't help--and nothing for the funny stuff. Just put up with it, the dr says. The MS society flying some of the artists to Mpls for the last stop of the year tour from IBM in NYC, but I decided not to go. Lots of airport hassle.

Jase moved out again. I like living alone, after the first day or two. Still haven't seen Bill to speak of. He calls, wants to see me or talk tomorrow. It's just over for me. A good ten years in many ways, but I think I'm a loner. Tho sometimes I wish I had a companion who understands things the way I do. (And to help with all the frustrations.) I guess the real meaning of life to me is the expression in 'art' or whatever it is I do. That's my real personal life.


back to 'letter essay contents'