The contacts list on my smartphone has bloomed like an eruption of brilliantly colored flowers after a long early spring rain.  Color and shadow all over.  Childish designs in thumbnail, the grey and white face of Baron von Doghead, snips of my own drawings, the brilliant pattern of my favorite Origami paper.  

Wherefore do you cause your phone to be so beautiful, sirrah?  

It can’t be helped.  The minimum and maximum wage of futility are the same.  ‘Tis like the breath of an unfeed lawyer, as the Fool told Lear.  I’m preparing to exhale some of that breath in the Bronx Civil Court, alternating that prep with research on pink mucus in stools.  

Please, what are you on about?  

Creativity, man, for its own sake and for the sake of the joy it brings, cannot help but bring.  Drawing cannot be helped, for example.  In a grey, futile and slightly queasy day there is also this: invention, beauty, mastery.   These things are excellent in and of themselves.  

Package and sell them and they are even more excellent, if you can find a way not to make dainty little trollops out of them.

“No worries of anyone making a dainty trollop out of me, boss”