I work like a cat. A cat lays around in the sun, thinking and sleeping, until something shiny catches its eye. My cat will chase a laser pointer until she pants and wheezes, and has jumped against the same wall several times without killing that little red dot. When that dot goes away, however, she’ll look around for fleeting glimpse of that red beauty, then give up and take a trip to the litterbox. I have thousands of ideas, I remember about twenty-nine. Of those three are really good, and I might do one. The work that means the most to me is work that deals with social issues and humanity. But the work that I can produce more easily deals with aesthetics. Without melodramatizing things, I’ll have to figure this out, or figure out if this is a problem at all. To the research! There’s got to be some brain scans on artist I can look at.